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In My Head
I don’t like it in here. Not with—them. As for the room itself, a room as it were, I see naught but white. The walls, ceiling, and floor of the cube-shaped room are all the purest white, and the source of the room’s light is not immediately apparent, seemingly coming from both everywhere and nowhere. But the source of the room’s darkness, that I can tell most easily.
Directly opposite me, I see a figure whose name is Darkness. About him, there is a region where the light dares not enter, and it is here that the whiteness of the room fades until it becomes as black as the hooded robe which Darkness wears. In his left hand is a beautiful angel named Joy, strangling in his grasp. In his right hand is a cruel dagger whose name is Death. Joy looks at me and stretches forth a hand, but I cannot move. I look down at my feet to find them shackled to the wall behind me by two chains, the first called Doubt, and the second Distrust. I know their names well, for it was I who fastened them about my feet.
I raise my head again and notice in the center of the room a key, the name of which is Opportunity. It is within my grasp; I can reach it, unlock myself, and—
“No you can’t. Think of all the times you’ve failed before,” says Doubt.
“You can’t do anything right. You’d only make things worse,” says Distrust.
I do not know why, but I believe them. I let them control me. I return my gaze to Joy and Darkness, but to my surprise, Joy is gone. Darkness now stands with his hands extended, and the dagger called Death lies on his palms. In place of Joy, my younger sister stands opposite Darkness with her head hung low and her hands in the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Slowly, she reaches out to accept Death from the open hands of Darkness.
I glance back at Opportunity. It is still there, but it is no longer on the ground. Instead, it is in the hands of one named Time. Time looks neither good nor evil, happy nor sad, but in all regards appears generally apathetic. My sister, meanwhile, has rolled up the sleeve of her left wrist, and has taken Death in her right hand.
I glance back to Time, only to see that he has now carried Opportunity beyond my reach.
“Wait! Come back!” I call after him. “Please, give me but one more chance to pick up Opportunity!” He only looks back and shrugs his shoulders at me before exiting the room through a door, previously unseen. I look back at my sister just in time to watch her plunge Death into her own wrist.
I raise my hands to my eyes to cry, and suddenly feel a terrible weight upon me. Before I know what this new burden is, its weight forces me to my knees. I look over my shoulder to see a mountainous backpack called Guilt on my back. I feel as though it would crush me right where I kneel. How it does not, I do not know; but it pins me to the ground as I kneel there, crying.
I know not how long I knelt there, only that when I opened my eyes, gone was the room and all it contained. In front of me now was a headstone of simple design. Etched into its surface were my sister’s name and the first and last years of her life. Directly in front of this stone lay the bouquet which I had placed there.
“Sister, I’m sorry,” I said through my tears. “I saw the signs you silently showed me. I heard you crying, I saw your depression, but I did nothing. They say that time heals all wounds, but that simply isn’t true. Most, maybe, but not all. I will forever bear the guilt of my actions, or lack thereof, but I will never forget you.”
Directly opposite me, I see a figure whose name is Darkness. About him, there is a region where the light dares not enter, and it is here that the whiteness of the room fades until it becomes as black as the hooded robe which Darkness wears. In his left hand is a beautiful angel named Joy, strangling in his grasp. In his right hand is a cruel dagger whose name is Death. Joy looks at me and stretches forth a hand, but I cannot move. I look down at my feet to find them shackled to the wall behind me by two chains, the first called Doubt, and the second Distrust. I know their names well, for it was I who fastened them about my feet.
I raise my head again and notice in the center of the room a key, the name of which is Opportunity. It is within my grasp; I can reach it, unlock myself, and—
“No you can’t. Think of all the times you’ve failed before,” says Doubt.
“You can’t do anything right. You’d only make things worse,” says Distrust.
I do not know why, but I believe them. I let them control me. I return my gaze to Joy and Darkness, but to my surprise, Joy is gone. Darkness now stands with his hands extended, and the dagger called Death lies on his palms. In place of Joy, my younger sister stands opposite Darkness with her head hung low and her hands in the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. Slowly, she reaches out to accept Death from the open hands of Darkness.
I glance back at Opportunity. It is still there, but it is no longer on the ground. Instead, it is in the hands of one named Time. Time looks neither good nor evil, happy nor sad, but in all regards appears generally apathetic. My sister, meanwhile, has rolled up the sleeve of her left wrist, and has taken Death in her right hand.
I glance back to Time, only to see that he has now carried Opportunity beyond my reach.
“Wait! Come back!” I call after him. “Please, give me but one more chance to pick up Opportunity!” He only looks back and shrugs his shoulders at me before exiting the room through a door, previously unseen. I look back at my sister just in time to watch her plunge Death into her own wrist.
I raise my hands to my eyes to cry, and suddenly feel a terrible weight upon me. Before I know what this new burden is, its weight forces me to my knees. I look over my shoulder to see a mountainous backpack called Guilt on my back. I feel as though it would crush me right where I kneel. How it does not, I do not know; but it pins me to the ground as I kneel there, crying.
I know not how long I knelt there, only that when I opened my eyes, gone was the room and all it contained. In front of me now was a headstone of simple design. Etched into its surface were my sister’s name and the first and last years of her life. Directly in front of this stone lay the bouquet which I had placed there.
“Sister, I’m sorry,” I said through my tears. “I saw the signs you silently showed me. I heard you crying, I saw your depression, but I did nothing. They say that time heals all wounds, but that simply isn’t true. Most, maybe, but not all. I will forever bear the guilt of my actions, or lack thereof, but I will never forget you.”
Well, this one is noble in the message it's trying to convey, but I'm not so sure it works.
All the concepts and ideas here are literal. The upside is that your analogy is clear. The downside is that it doesn't feel imaginative. It feels like a full analogy and less of a story. For me, it wasn't entertaining. It doesn't help that he speaks in an... archaic way, if that's the right word for it [I know their names well, for it was I who fastened them about my feet.] [Instead, it is in the hands of one named Time.].
A couple of things in this analogy made me scratch my head. Like this statement [I saw the signs you silently showed me. I heard you crying, I saw your depression, but I did nothing.] is not quite true, because his sister wasn't shown until after he had the chance to pick up Opportunity. Also, doesn't Distrust pretty much mirror what Doubt said? Also, I'm not sure where Joy came in. Death killing Joy--is that a metaphor for the realization of the inevitability of death killing joy? If not, what is its purpose, because it doesn't seem to tie in to the sister's plight. There may be more odd things about it, too, but those are the first that I could think of. I don't know at the moment what a more accurate analogy would look like.
I mean, if you don't stop to think about it, it's a pretty good analogy, but I can't help it could've used some ironing out. Perhaps the 24-hour time limit didn't help.
All the concepts and ideas here are literal. The upside is that your analogy is clear. The downside is that it doesn't feel imaginative. It feels like a full analogy and less of a story. For me, it wasn't entertaining. It doesn't help that he speaks in an... archaic way, if that's the right word for it [I know their names well, for it was I who fastened them about my feet.] [Instead, it is in the hands of one named Time.].
A couple of things in this analogy made me scratch my head. Like this statement [I saw the signs you silently showed me. I heard you crying, I saw your depression, but I did nothing.] is not quite true, because his sister wasn't shown until after he had the chance to pick up Opportunity. Also, doesn't Distrust pretty much mirror what Doubt said? Also, I'm not sure where Joy came in. Death killing Joy--is that a metaphor for the realization of the inevitability of death killing joy? If not, what is its purpose, because it doesn't seem to tie in to the sister's plight. There may be more odd things about it, too, but those are the first that I could think of. I don't know at the moment what a more accurate analogy would look like.
I mean, if you don't stop to think about it, it's a pretty good analogy, but I can't help it could've used some ironing out. Perhaps the 24-hour time limit didn't help.
This story was entirely too unambiguous in his images. The labelling of each element in the vision felt more like the analysis of a text than a story itself, and so quenched my involvement in the narration.
While there is a thing like too much subtlety, here we have the opposite.
To be clear, I don't want to sound too negative and this can evolve into a worthwhile story, but as it is now it pulled me out of the narration at each open explanation of what should have been symbolic and emotionally charged images. If you cut back on the labelling and if you expand the framework that allows us to connect the symbols to the grounded and, sadly, all too realistic situation that spawned them then you can have something truly touching.
Currently it didn't work for me, sorry.
While there is a thing like too much subtlety, here we have the opposite.
To be clear, I don't want to sound too negative and this can evolve into a worthwhile story, but as it is now it pulled me out of the narration at each open explanation of what should have been symbolic and emotionally charged images. If you cut back on the labelling and if you expand the framework that allows us to connect the symbols to the grounded and, sadly, all too realistic situation that spawned them then you can have something truly touching.
Currently it didn't work for me, sorry.
Mmm... I'm going to have to echo the others here.
I think, if you'd told the narrative in almost exactly the same way, but without the names included, this would have been much stronger. I understand, 'love your readers but don't trust them'; however, I think you're directly revealing things that would be better kept as inferences. The more softly something is revealed, the stronger it will hit, and finding that balance is difficult.
Still, as it is, this is a complete story and I do like what it's saying, so I'll give it good points for that. However, I feel that you're using an axe here when you want scissors.
I think, if you'd told the narrative in almost exactly the same way, but without the names included, this would have been much stronger. I understand, 'love your readers but don't trust them'; however, I think you're directly revealing things that would be better kept as inferences. The more softly something is revealed, the stronger it will hit, and finding that balance is difficult.
Still, as it is, this is a complete story and I do like what it's saying, so I'll give it good points for that. However, I feel that you're using an axe here when you want scissors.
I agree with the others that the big metaphor section could use some more subtlety, but I think that it generally works. It definitely reminds me of a style of writing that I've seen before, but I can't remember where. Possibly C.S. Lewis, but I might be way off.
What really kills this story for me is the last paragraph. It really adds nothing and seems to mostly be there for the prompt drop. The penultimate paragraph isn't as bad, but it doesn't actually tell us anything that we don't already know, so it might have helped to get rid of it too.
I think I'd call this story fairly mediocre. Not bad, but not great either.
What really kills this story for me is the last paragraph. It really adds nothing and seems to mostly be there for the prompt drop. The penultimate paragraph isn't as bad, but it doesn't actually tell us anything that we don't already know, so it might have helped to get rid of it too.
I think I'd call this story fairly mediocre. Not bad, but not great either.
(I'm listening to Kanto Symphony whilst writing this, so of course just as I start on this one the theme from Lavender Town starts playing. Just my luck.)
On the list of things I like to see in stories, extended metaphor is pretty high up on the list. So when I see a story that is almost entirely extended metaphor, I really, really want to like it. And for the most part, I did like this entry, even if it all felt a little blunt in its delivery. And since others have really already discussed why it feels so blunt, I think I'll leave that analysis to them.
Instead, I want to dive in and think about the relation between story and metaphor, and why what this entry does with that is really cool.
In most stories, when there's some sort of extended metaphorical meaning going on, it usually happens on top of the story that is being told—that is, one can read the story and understand everything that is happening in the world of the characters and have it all make sense without necessarily understanding the greater significance of some of the actions/objects/miscellaneous other symbol-esque things, but on closer inspection the metaphors and symbols come together to provide an additional or expanded meaning to the piece. It's a difficult technique to put into writing precisely because it is so widely used that we really see this sort of thing when reading without thinking too much about it... but if we're to understand this story, which does the precise opposite, then we really need to get our heads around what this layer of meaning achieves.
Symbols and metaphors can allow the author to reinforce key moments and changes within the story: when the conch breaks in Lord of the Flies, for example, the reader immediately knows that it is the end of order and democracy on the island, because the conch represented those aspects of society. They take actions that on their own can be quite mundane in the world of the story, like how a random sea-shell getting crushed by a boulder is really rather unimportant next to the child who just died, and give them an increased significance that gives the meaning and structure of the story additional clarity. Of course, they can be used for other things, but I think this is the way in which In My Head makes the most sense.
In My Head doesn't use metaphor to reinforce a story—it is metaphor, and it leaves the reader to fill in the gaps and figure out the story the metaphors come from. It's not a difficult exercise, because a lot of it is given to us on a silver platter (especially in the last section, which I think overall weakens the impact of the piece. Actually, I'd argue that making the exercise of figuring out the story harder would do a lot to improve this piece, though I do like it just as it is.) Still, this way of doing things reinforces one very, very simple idea: that the actions to which the metaphors correlate may seem quite mundane and unimportant in the real world.
And that, I think, is key to understanding what this story is really about. The message isn't so simple as "if you keep putting things off, or denying things, then it can be too late to fix problems". It's about how easy it is to miss things, to deny signs that someone is hurting, to put off going to help because you think there will always be an opportunity later, and at it's heart it's about how, like the hidden significance of metaphors in an ordinary story, you might not even notice that you're doing it.
Now I might be reading a lot into a decision by the author, here. I'll be honest: I often do. But I think that, if this piece is going to be edited in future, this reading is very much worth bearing in mind, because there's a lot about this story that doesn't quite work with it. To begin with, there is one metaphor whose name doesn't quite work: Darkness. The problem here is that, while all the other metaphors are named after things relevant to the story being told, Darkness is itself a rather metaphorical thing. Let me put it this way: "Doubt" might not be a tangible thing, but one can still easily observe its effects and attribute them to doubt with some certainty, but in this context "Darkness" is itself a symbol for everything that is cruel or unfair or "wrong" in the world—a name like "Depression" might, perhaps, be more suitable and in-line with your other conventions, but I worry that that might be giving even more away straight from the start. Still, worth thinking about.
I also felt that the dialogue, sparse as it was, was unnecessarily formal—in times of desperation, people are unlikely to use such constructions as "give me but one more chance" (you can happily omit the "but" in there.) But I think the phrasing "bring Opportunity back to me" is probably better, as your original phrasing is itself asking for an opportunity to reach Opportunity, which is not just a convoluted way of doing things but also reduces the effectiveness of Opportunity as a metaphor.
All in all, I thought there was some really interesting stuff here that I'd love to see explored more carefully, and I was really impressed with some of the decisions you made with the direction to take this. I think that it might take some effort to tidy this one up (it's the kind of piece that requires delicate care to get right!) but I have no doubts that you can do it, author.
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My apologies for any typos or particularly mangled phrasings on this one. I'm a little late for a meeting, and I'd rather post this unedited than potentially not post it at all!
On the list of things I like to see in stories, extended metaphor is pretty high up on the list. So when I see a story that is almost entirely extended metaphor, I really, really want to like it. And for the most part, I did like this entry, even if it all felt a little blunt in its delivery. And since others have really already discussed why it feels so blunt, I think I'll leave that analysis to them.
Instead, I want to dive in and think about the relation between story and metaphor, and why what this entry does with that is really cool.
In most stories, when there's some sort of extended metaphorical meaning going on, it usually happens on top of the story that is being told—that is, one can read the story and understand everything that is happening in the world of the characters and have it all make sense without necessarily understanding the greater significance of some of the actions/objects/miscellaneous other symbol-esque things, but on closer inspection the metaphors and symbols come together to provide an additional or expanded meaning to the piece. It's a difficult technique to put into writing precisely because it is so widely used that we really see this sort of thing when reading without thinking too much about it... but if we're to understand this story, which does the precise opposite, then we really need to get our heads around what this layer of meaning achieves.
Symbols and metaphors can allow the author to reinforce key moments and changes within the story: when the conch breaks in Lord of the Flies, for example, the reader immediately knows that it is the end of order and democracy on the island, because the conch represented those aspects of society. They take actions that on their own can be quite mundane in the world of the story, like how a random sea-shell getting crushed by a boulder is really rather unimportant next to the child who just died, and give them an increased significance that gives the meaning and structure of the story additional clarity. Of course, they can be used for other things, but I think this is the way in which In My Head makes the most sense.
In My Head doesn't use metaphor to reinforce a story—it is metaphor, and it leaves the reader to fill in the gaps and figure out the story the metaphors come from. It's not a difficult exercise, because a lot of it is given to us on a silver platter (especially in the last section, which I think overall weakens the impact of the piece. Actually, I'd argue that making the exercise of figuring out the story harder would do a lot to improve this piece, though I do like it just as it is.) Still, this way of doing things reinforces one very, very simple idea: that the actions to which the metaphors correlate may seem quite mundane and unimportant in the real world.
And that, I think, is key to understanding what this story is really about. The message isn't so simple as "if you keep putting things off, or denying things, then it can be too late to fix problems". It's about how easy it is to miss things, to deny signs that someone is hurting, to put off going to help because you think there will always be an opportunity later, and at it's heart it's about how, like the hidden significance of metaphors in an ordinary story, you might not even notice that you're doing it.
Now I might be reading a lot into a decision by the author, here. I'll be honest: I often do. But I think that, if this piece is going to be edited in future, this reading is very much worth bearing in mind, because there's a lot about this story that doesn't quite work with it. To begin with, there is one metaphor whose name doesn't quite work: Darkness. The problem here is that, while all the other metaphors are named after things relevant to the story being told, Darkness is itself a rather metaphorical thing. Let me put it this way: "Doubt" might not be a tangible thing, but one can still easily observe its effects and attribute them to doubt with some certainty, but in this context "Darkness" is itself a symbol for everything that is cruel or unfair or "wrong" in the world—a name like "Depression" might, perhaps, be more suitable and in-line with your other conventions, but I worry that that might be giving even more away straight from the start. Still, worth thinking about.
I also felt that the dialogue, sparse as it was, was unnecessarily formal—in times of desperation, people are unlikely to use such constructions as "give me but one more chance" (you can happily omit the "but" in there.) But I think the phrasing "bring Opportunity back to me" is probably better, as your original phrasing is itself asking for an opportunity to reach Opportunity, which is not just a convoluted way of doing things but also reduces the effectiveness of Opportunity as a metaphor.
All in all, I thought there was some really interesting stuff here that I'd love to see explored more carefully, and I was really impressed with some of the decisions you made with the direction to take this. I think that it might take some effort to tidy this one up (it's the kind of piece that requires delicate care to get right!) but I have no doubts that you can do it, author.
---
My apologies for any typos or particularly mangled phrasings on this one. I'm a little late for a meeting, and I'd rather post this unedited than potentially not post it at all!