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What It's Worth
Spike stamped down the stairs to the ground floor of the library. “Twilight?”
She wasn’t there. Clearly she was somewhere, though, because books were strewn about the place.
Spike clenched his fists. Like there hadn’t been enough of Twilight’s mad research sessions lately. “Where are you?” he shouted.
No answer. He didn’t need one. Since she wasn’t here or upstairs, she had to be in the basement. He shoved the door open and it banged against the wall. “Twilight!”
“Uh—Spike?” This was followed by a gasp, and then by paper rustling furiously.
Spike took in the scene as he went down: more books, big boring ones, piled atop each other on the table, a blanket, discarded scrolls, a blackboard covered in scribbles.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Wrapping your birthday present?” Twilight suggested. There were bags under her eyes. From behind her back she produced a rectangular package, floating in a dull pink aura.
As soon as he felt its weight in his hands his shoulders slumped. He shouldn’t have hoped for anything else. “I knew it,” he said immediately it, and proved himself right once he’d opened the present, nearly scratching the book’s cover the in the process.
Spike glared. “I told you I didn’t want another book unless it’s a comic or it at least has pictures in it.”
“You said you like good stories,” said Twilight. “You’ll like the book. I promise. It’s a good—”
Spike wrenched the book open so forcefully the spine cracked. He ignored Twilight’s wince and flicked through boring beige page after boring beige page, all filled with words and nothing but words.
He thrust the open book towards her. “See? You know, a picture’s worth a thousand words, Twilight! What were you doing that’s so important you even forgot to wrap it anyway?”
Twilight flushed.
“Did you stay up all night looking at Haycartes?!” Spike demanded after a moment, pointing at the blanket. “I can’t believe you!”
“It was just a little thing bothering me in one of his spells. I honestly didn’t mean to stay up.”
She was lying. The blanket proved it. Spike folded his arms. “Well, since it’s obviously more important than my birthday,” he said, “why don’t you show me the problem? It must be super interesting since you didn’t give up on it even though we agreed you would.”
When Twilight started shaking her head, Spike deliberately added, “It can be the birthday present I actually asked for.”
Twilight drooped. “I’m sorry…”
But her horn began to glow. Spike again noticed the dimness of her aura: a gray tint dulled its pink shimmer. Twilight looked a bit sick, actually.
The musty smell of old books in an airless room suddenly filled his nose. Twilight disappeared.
So did Spike’s anger. His breath caught like he really was in an airless room.
“Twilight?” he shouted, flinging his book away. It thudded onto the table, the momentum sending it into a spin that didn’t stop. The black words spun into dark rings in the centre of the pale pages, two dark circles like eyes, like Twilight’s eyes, big eyes gawking up at Spike.
Spike leaned over the table to stare down and back into her gaze.
“Spike,” Twilight cried, her voice far-away and drawn out.
“You’re in the book!” he answered. At least, he tried to answer, but he didn’t hear the words. His lips said nothing. He went to grab his throat, but his hands wouldn’t move.
The stale bookish smell overwhelmed him: he couldn’t even breathe in. He swayed on his feet, and then fell forward into the spinning abyss of words.
But a moment later he was as before, lying motionless, looking up at Twilight’s face—watching it slowly fold in on itself in dismay.
“You’re in the book!” echoed his words, in Twilight’s voice. Other words fanned across a beige canvas behind her head, rapidly overwriting one another until they blotted each other out. Yet Spike read on. He had no choice, and it was a good story.
Meanwhile, Twilight’s changing face told another story, one he wasn’t sure he understood.
Suddenly, he breathed out.
He was back in the basement, head throbbing. Twilight ran towards him. He returned her hug and apologies with just as much fervency.
The book lay on the table, no longer worth all the fuss. A few weeks later, Spike added it to the general library catalogue and shelved it appropriately. After all, he’d read it already.
She wasn’t there. Clearly she was somewhere, though, because books were strewn about the place.
Spike clenched his fists. Like there hadn’t been enough of Twilight’s mad research sessions lately. “Where are you?” he shouted.
No answer. He didn’t need one. Since she wasn’t here or upstairs, she had to be in the basement. He shoved the door open and it banged against the wall. “Twilight!”
“Uh—Spike?” This was followed by a gasp, and then by paper rustling furiously.
Spike took in the scene as he went down: more books, big boring ones, piled atop each other on the table, a blanket, discarded scrolls, a blackboard covered in scribbles.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Wrapping your birthday present?” Twilight suggested. There were bags under her eyes. From behind her back she produced a rectangular package, floating in a dull pink aura.
As soon as he felt its weight in his hands his shoulders slumped. He shouldn’t have hoped for anything else. “I knew it,” he said immediately it, and proved himself right once he’d opened the present, nearly scratching the book’s cover the in the process.
Spike glared. “I told you I didn’t want another book unless it’s a comic or it at least has pictures in it.”
“You said you like good stories,” said Twilight. “You’ll like the book. I promise. It’s a good—”
Spike wrenched the book open so forcefully the spine cracked. He ignored Twilight’s wince and flicked through boring beige page after boring beige page, all filled with words and nothing but words.
He thrust the open book towards her. “See? You know, a picture’s worth a thousand words, Twilight! What were you doing that’s so important you even forgot to wrap it anyway?”
Twilight flushed.
“Did you stay up all night looking at Haycartes?!” Spike demanded after a moment, pointing at the blanket. “I can’t believe you!”
“It was just a little thing bothering me in one of his spells. I honestly didn’t mean to stay up.”
She was lying. The blanket proved it. Spike folded his arms. “Well, since it’s obviously more important than my birthday,” he said, “why don’t you show me the problem? It must be super interesting since you didn’t give up on it even though we agreed you would.”
When Twilight started shaking her head, Spike deliberately added, “It can be the birthday present I actually asked for.”
Twilight drooped. “I’m sorry…”
But her horn began to glow. Spike again noticed the dimness of her aura: a gray tint dulled its pink shimmer. Twilight looked a bit sick, actually.
The musty smell of old books in an airless room suddenly filled his nose. Twilight disappeared.
So did Spike’s anger. His breath caught like he really was in an airless room.
“Twilight?” he shouted, flinging his book away. It thudded onto the table, the momentum sending it into a spin that didn’t stop. The black words spun into dark rings in the centre of the pale pages, two dark circles like eyes, like Twilight’s eyes, big eyes gawking up at Spike.
Spike leaned over the table to stare down and back into her gaze.
“Spike,” Twilight cried, her voice far-away and drawn out.
“You’re in the book!” he answered. At least, he tried to answer, but he didn’t hear the words. His lips said nothing. He went to grab his throat, but his hands wouldn’t move.
The stale bookish smell overwhelmed him: he couldn’t even breathe in. He swayed on his feet, and then fell forward into the spinning abyss of words.
But a moment later he was as before, lying motionless, looking up at Twilight’s face—watching it slowly fold in on itself in dismay.
“You’re in the book!” echoed his words, in Twilight’s voice. Other words fanned across a beige canvas behind her head, rapidly overwriting one another until they blotted each other out. Yet Spike read on. He had no choice, and it was a good story.
Meanwhile, Twilight’s changing face told another story, one he wasn’t sure he understood.
Suddenly, he breathed out.
He was back in the basement, head throbbing. Twilight ran towards him. He returned her hug and apologies with just as much fervency.
The book lay on the table, no longer worth all the fuss. A few weeks later, Spike added it to the general library catalogue and shelved it appropriately. After all, he’d read it already.
I am a bit... confused about Spike's early bouts of anger. I can picture him being annoyed at Twilight's mess, and then hurt or disappointed at her forgetting about her birthday/getting him a book again, I wasn't sure which one was it. I just don't feel Spike would react like that towards Twilight, and if he did, he would probably back down immediately.
Also, I think Spike being sad/hurt/disappointed would be a better motivator for Twilight to... to... enter the book and change the words to tell a different story to Spike? I thought maybe the book was magical, but Spike's closing thoughts about shelving it amongst the rest of the books of the library lead me to believe otherwise.
I think the story you wanted to tell was bigger than the limitations imposed by the event, but I still feel you could have delivered a more rounded story within 750 words.
Overall, I encourage you to keep improving and keep trying.
Also, I think Spike being sad/hurt/disappointed would be a better motivator for Twilight to... to... enter the book and change the words to tell a different story to Spike? I thought maybe the book was magical, but Spike's closing thoughts about shelving it amongst the rest of the books of the library lead me to believe otherwise.
I think the story you wanted to tell was bigger than the limitations imposed by the event, but I still feel you could have delivered a more rounded story within 750 words.
Overall, I encourage you to keep improving and keep trying.
What It's Worth
Bookhorse is being Bookhorse and Spike is not amused. Spike gets sucked into a book, and amends his fences when he returns.
A cute, happy story with vivid scenes and imagery. Some things I noticed:
I particularly like the rhythm and sound of this phrase. This boring beige phrase.
....
I'll see myself out now.
See, this is what I was talking about. Vivid imagery that practically comes alive.
If I had to point out any singular weak area, it would have to be the ending. We get a hint of another story being told, one that I'm not sure I understand. The word "change" in the aforementioned phrase is one of the few instances I can find of vagueness, though this is possibly intentional since we're seeing things from Spike's PoV.
Glancing back to the title, the last paragraph makes sense, though it feels disjointed from the rest of the work, and ever-so-slightly rushed. Of course, with only four words left to spare, there wasn't much left to do. Come to think of it, the second-to-last paragraph is the only time dialogue is hinted at, not spelled out explicitly. Another 75-ish words, and this story would have felt much more resolved.
Still, this story was going great right up until the end, so it's likely going to end up fairly high on my slate.
Bookhorse is being Bookhorse and Spike is not amused. Spike gets sucked into a book, and amends his fences when he returns.
A cute, happy story with vivid scenes and imagery. Some things I noticed:
boring beige page after boring beige page
I particularly like the rhythm and sound of this phrase. This boring beige phrase.
....
I'll see myself out now.
The black words spun into dark rings in the centre of the pale pages, two dark circles like eyes, like Twilight’s eyes, big eyes gawking up at Spike.
See, this is what I was talking about. Vivid imagery that practically comes alive.
If I had to point out any singular weak area, it would have to be the ending. We get a hint of another story being told, one that I'm not sure I understand. The word "change" in the aforementioned phrase is one of the few instances I can find of vagueness, though this is possibly intentional since we're seeing things from Spike's PoV.
Glancing back to the title, the last paragraph makes sense, though it feels disjointed from the rest of the work, and ever-so-slightly rushed. Of course, with only four words left to spare, there wasn't much left to do. Come to think of it, the second-to-last paragraph is the only time dialogue is hinted at, not spelled out explicitly. Another 75-ish words, and this story would have felt much more resolved.
Still, this story was going great right up until the end, so it's likely going to end up fairly high on my slate.
This is a nicely Twilight Zone premise, but I personally feel that Spike is a little out of character. Unless repeatedly provoked he's not usually short with Twilight or ungrateful to her, and he is both right from the beginning of this story. It's also a bit jerky and rushed feeling, though I know that's just due to the length constraints.
I really, really love the beginning of this story. Spike's anger and the dialogue felt very vivid and evocative, although Spike actually seemed a bit out-of-character (I can't really envision him complaining that he hates books without pictures... he's a librarian's assistant and a letter-writer, he shouldn't resent text so much.)
However, I can't say I understand the ending part. There's some truly powerful imagery there,
...but I can't say I fully understand what's going on here. Did Twilight just draw Spike into the book so that he'd be forced to appreciate her rushed gift? If anything, that's just ensure that Spike will loathe the book from now on; it's not fun to be forced to read something. It makes Twilight look like a jerk, actually, unwilling to admit her own error.
There's some powerful mood created in this story, but the characters' actions don't jibe with it. Spike and Twilight seem unnecessarily mean-spirited towards each other until the penultimate paragraph.
However, I can't say I understand the ending part. There's some truly powerful imagery there,
The black words spun into dark rings in the centre of the pale pages, two dark circles like eyes, like Twilight’s eyes, big eyes gawking up at Spike.
looking up at Twilight’s face—watching it slowly fold in on itself in dismay.
Other words fanned across a beige canvas behind her head, rapidly overwriting one another until they blotted each other out.
...but I can't say I fully understand what's going on here. Did Twilight just draw Spike into the book so that he'd be forced to appreciate her rushed gift? If anything, that's just ensure that Spike will loathe the book from now on; it's not fun to be forced to read something. It makes Twilight look like a jerk, actually, unwilling to admit her own error.
There's some powerful mood created in this story, but the characters' actions don't jibe with it. Spike and Twilight seem unnecessarily mean-spirited towards each other until the penultimate paragraph.
So, this was doing a great job of setting the scene and getting me invested in the characters...And then Twilight disappeared, and I completely lost track of what was happening.
I dunno, Author. I couldn't figure out what you're getting at with that book at all. Was Twilight in the book? Was Spike in the book? was it some sort of metaphor? What's the meaning behind shelving it? Why did Twilight disappear?
What's going on?
I just don't get it. Perhaps that's my fault, but yeah. You lost me, and hard. Maybe this is based on some twilight zone thing I've never seen.
I dunno, Author. I couldn't figure out what you're getting at with that book at all. Was Twilight in the book? Was Spike in the book? was it some sort of metaphor? What's the meaning behind shelving it? Why did Twilight disappear?
What's going on?
I just don't get it. Perhaps that's my fault, but yeah. You lost me, and hard. Maybe this is based on some twilight zone thing I've never seen.
Observation #1 Spike feels really out of character.
Observation #2 What is going on at the end?
Others hit both of this, so I'll keep this short. But even on a re-read, I can't tell what is actually happening at the end. Twilight becomes a book? Twilight and Spike are both replaced by things hiding in a book? No idea. So yeah, even ignoring #1 above, I can't say much for this overall, but there are some good turns of phrase (as have also been pointed out above.)
Observation #2 What is going on at the end?
Others hit both of this, so I'll keep this short. But even on a re-read, I can't tell what is actually happening at the end. Twilight becomes a book? Twilight and Spike are both replaced by things hiding in a book? No idea. So yeah, even ignoring #1 above, I can't say much for this overall, but there are some good turns of phrase (as have also been pointed out above.)
Spike is such a whiny, petulant, immature little baby that I felt like picking him up and dropping him on his head. It's not that he's angry; it's his reason for being angry. Upset with Twilight for missing an obligation because she was overworking herself? That's perfectly in character. Being personally hurt by it because she forgot to do something for him when she promised? Also in character.
Yelling at her because she didn't get him the right birthday present? Not in character. Neither are hen-pecked Twilight's frantic efforts at placation. This is not the relationship that these two characters have.
I also have no idea what in the blue hell is happening once the story really kicks into gear, or what the connection between the first and second parts are. Mechanically, this is competently done, but the story those mechanics tell doesn't quite come to par.
Sorry.
Yelling at her because she didn't get him the right birthday present? Not in character. Neither are hen-pecked Twilight's frantic efforts at placation. This is not the relationship that these two characters have.
I also have no idea what in the blue hell is happening once the story really kicks into gear, or what the connection between the first and second parts are. Mechanically, this is competently done, but the story those mechanics tell doesn't quite come to par.
Sorry.
I'm going to have to join those wondering just what happened once Twilight started applying Haycartes's methods. And what crawled up Spike's rear and died, for that matter. We've seen him receive books with resignation, not rage, and if this takes place after "Secret of My Excess," then he should know the perils of excessive acquisitiveness.
This has the makings of some incredible surreal adventure/horror, but as is, you have some key adjustments to make in tone and clarity.
This has the makings of some incredible surreal adventure/horror, but as is, you have some key adjustments to make in tone and clarity.
What It's Worth: Retrospective
I agree with all the criticisms levelled at this one, so I'd just like to thank everyone for commenting and pointing out where I could improve. I enjoyed writing this, but once again I tried to cram an idea into 750 words that needed more space to breathe, and characterisation and clarity suffered as a result. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now!
Thanks again, all.
I agree with all the criticisms levelled at this one, so I'd just like to thank everyone for commenting and pointing out where I could improve. I enjoyed writing this, but once again I tried to cram an idea into 750 words that needed more space to breathe, and characterisation and clarity suffered as a result. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now!
Thanks again, all.