Hey! It looks like you're new here. You might want to check out the introduction.
Show rules for this event
Tomorrow
I open my eyes, and stare at the distant shimmer. It's tempting, some days. It’s not far. A couple of hours flight at most, perhaps, to the valley’s mouth and the veil within. I could leave before she even wakes up. In my dreams, sometimes, I do, and –
“Mmph!”
Cirrus wakes up, pushing my wing off her, and I lean down and give her a gentle nuzzle. She darts away, wings flittering, laughing. I shake my head with a wry grin, comb my mane out the best I can, and shoulder our packs as she flies above me. The dazzling light from the maddened sky shines down on her wings, and makes her look like some manic pegasus butterfly.
She knows the way; we’ve walked this path many times before.
When we reach the village, it isn't there. It's never existed. I do my best not to remember why.
Scritch
It's around midday when I hear footsteps behind Cirrus and I. I turn to see Valencia - that's still her name, as far as I can remember - standing there with a long, puckered scar winding itself from her forehead to her withers. She glares at me, memories flooding my mind unbidden. A knife. An accident. A mistake.
Valencia's still staring at me, and Cirrus has gone quiet. By the expression on Valencia's face, her memories are similar to mine. “I’m sorry, “ I say, dumbly.
Valencia bows her head. "Forget it." There’s no anger in that voice; just something numb, and cold. We both know there's no point in blaming each other. Both know we've done this many times before. Neither knowing just how many. Living so many lives jumbles your memory, like fifty verses of the same song.
Everybody has different memories, here. Every pony. Every day.
I hear Cirrus behind me, calling my name, and turn to see her bouncing on a young tree limb, and when I turn back around, Valencia’s gone.
I don't wait for her to return.
I spend the rest of the day drawing on the soft earth with sharpened sticks, teaching Cirrus how to write in a script I’ve forgotten learning. Time passes with every written word, and blurs like so many sentences, and when I look up again its dark.
Valencia doesn't come back.
I curl up to Cirrus, in the center of where the village has never been, and hold her close, and drape a wing over her sleeping form. Against my chest, I feel her breathing slow. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Some days there’s a whole village here, full of other ponies, and we wake up in a warm home with a blazing hearth, and Cirrus runs down the street with the other foals, laughing. Some days, we’re the only ones, with the whole village to ourselves like a ghost town. Some days, like today, we wake up to find that the village has never existed at all. Those aren’t the worst days.
Those are the days I wake up alone.
We don’t know how long we’ve been here. Valencia. Cirrus and I. The others. We don’t even know where here is. There is one consensus, however: that the Sisters tried to save us, and that they failed. That's constant. The one thing we all know. That we can all agree on, every day, no matter how much our memories change.
They failed us, and they forgot us, and they left us their broken sky to make us remember.
Cirrus and I try not to talk about our daily pasts. About the people we’ve forgotten. Tell ourselves it's not important. Some ponies do; they sit, and reminisce, or marvel on the differences, or fight about them.
Every now and then, a pony walks to the veil at the end of the valley. The ones who’re too tired to go on. The ones who’ve given up hope. We don’t remember them after that; we’re not even sure how many have left. You could count the number of buildings perhaps, on the days the town’s always been here, but even that seems to change.
At least, it does in my dreams.
The starless sky grows darker, and as sleep and fresh memories take me, Cirrus warm against me, I dream in hope. Hope that the Princesses will return. Hope that on some distant morning, we’ll awaken to find our consensus broken.
Hope that someday, somebody will remember a better life for us all.
“Mmph!”
Cirrus wakes up, pushing my wing off her, and I lean down and give her a gentle nuzzle. She darts away, wings flittering, laughing. I shake my head with a wry grin, comb my mane out the best I can, and shoulder our packs as she flies above me. The dazzling light from the maddened sky shines down on her wings, and makes her look like some manic pegasus butterfly.
She knows the way; we’ve walked this path many times before.
When we reach the village, it isn't there. It's never existed. I do my best not to remember why.
Scritch
It's around midday when I hear footsteps behind Cirrus and I. I turn to see Valencia - that's still her name, as far as I can remember - standing there with a long, puckered scar winding itself from her forehead to her withers. She glares at me, memories flooding my mind unbidden. A knife. An accident. A mistake.
Valencia's still staring at me, and Cirrus has gone quiet. By the expression on Valencia's face, her memories are similar to mine. “I’m sorry, “ I say, dumbly.
Valencia bows her head. "Forget it." There’s no anger in that voice; just something numb, and cold. We both know there's no point in blaming each other. Both know we've done this many times before. Neither knowing just how many. Living so many lives jumbles your memory, like fifty verses of the same song.
Everybody has different memories, here. Every pony. Every day.
I hear Cirrus behind me, calling my name, and turn to see her bouncing on a young tree limb, and when I turn back around, Valencia’s gone.
I don't wait for her to return.
I spend the rest of the day drawing on the soft earth with sharpened sticks, teaching Cirrus how to write in a script I’ve forgotten learning. Time passes with every written word, and blurs like so many sentences, and when I look up again its dark.
Valencia doesn't come back.
I curl up to Cirrus, in the center of where the village has never been, and hold her close, and drape a wing over her sleeping form. Against my chest, I feel her breathing slow. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Some days there’s a whole village here, full of other ponies, and we wake up in a warm home with a blazing hearth, and Cirrus runs down the street with the other foals, laughing. Some days, we’re the only ones, with the whole village to ourselves like a ghost town. Some days, like today, we wake up to find that the village has never existed at all. Those aren’t the worst days.
Those are the days I wake up alone.
We don’t know how long we’ve been here. Valencia. Cirrus and I. The others. We don’t even know where here is. There is one consensus, however: that the Sisters tried to save us, and that they failed. That's constant. The one thing we all know. That we can all agree on, every day, no matter how much our memories change.
They failed us, and they forgot us, and they left us their broken sky to make us remember.
Cirrus and I try not to talk about our daily pasts. About the people we’ve forgotten. Tell ourselves it's not important. Some ponies do; they sit, and reminisce, or marvel on the differences, or fight about them.
Every now and then, a pony walks to the veil at the end of the valley. The ones who’re too tired to go on. The ones who’ve given up hope. We don’t remember them after that; we’re not even sure how many have left. You could count the number of buildings perhaps, on the days the town’s always been here, but even that seems to change.
At least, it does in my dreams.
The starless sky grows darker, and as sleep and fresh memories take me, Cirrus warm against me, I dream in hope. Hope that the Princesses will return. Hope that on some distant morning, we’ll awaken to find our consensus broken.
Hope that someday, somebody will remember a better life for us all.
Now this was nice. Brief, not quite to the point, clear enough to get it but mysterious enough to keep me wondering. One has to ask: is it just this town? Or is it far more than that?
Nice and atmospheric, interesting concept, enough mystery to keep it in mind afterwords. Much approval from me.
Nice and atmospheric, interesting concept, enough mystery to keep it in mind afterwords. Much approval from me.
It's not a bad take on the "perpetual demimnesia" sort of setting, and I like the atmosphere. I wish it did something other than just be a snow globe, though. Is the prompt connection supposed to be that they're gradually fading out of existence after being forgotten?
This could be a nice starting chapter to something, maybe after being cut down some more so that it's more distinctly introductory.
This could be a nice starting chapter to something, maybe after being cut down some more so that it's more distinctly introductory.
Very mysterious. Probably too much so for its own good; I didn't have enough context to understand what had "actually" happened, and the story didn't seem to be about adjusting to the realities of the situation (indeed, it seems that that's not actually a think ponies can do, when their memories vary from day to day), which left me searching for meaning and coming up empty.
But that's not a fatal flaw here, because the prose is lovely and the situation poignant (even if shrouded in mystery). This is a good story, even a haunting one, as-written--but if you want to take it to that next level, then consider giving the reader something to grip to as you set them adrift. That "something" can be a revelation, a sliver of hope, a brutally crushing denial of hope, or something else entirely... just as long as it's something!
But that's not a fatal flaw here, because the prose is lovely and the situation poignant (even if shrouded in mystery). This is a good story, even a haunting one, as-written--but if you want to take it to that next level, then consider giving the reader something to grip to as you set them adrift. That "something" can be a revelation, a sliver of hope, a brutally crushing denial of hope, or something else entirely... just as long as it's something!
I must admit that this is way too vague, without giving me much of a chance to grip onto anything to get a steady footing. We get a couple of tantalizing references but nothing really comes out of it, and it's all just abstract enough that I cannot feel for the heroes; just why won't they leave? Why is going through the veil treated akin to suicide? If I found myself in a spooky village separated from the world by an intangible veil, I'd go through it in a heartbeat unless something prevented me. Do the characters know something that indicates that leaving would be a bad or risky idea? This isn't really made clear in the story.
Elegantly written, of that there can be no doubt. You've built a strong atmosphere and there are some nice moments. I do enjoy subtle stories, but I have to be honest in that I really struggled to find a way to break through and interpret this one. As a result, the moments that (I presume) were poignant and emotional were a little lost to me, and I didn't quite find myself engaging with it as a result. A solid, aesthetically pleasing story, and one that clearly embraced the prompt, but the overall vagueness left me cold towards the content. It's going to be one of those stories that I look forward to reading the retrospective of however, should you feel the need or desire to write one.
Thanks for sharing your work.
Thanks for sharing your work.
This story presents an interesting enigma, but I'm left a little unfulfilled by it. I don't think this works well in 750 words: it leaves me wanting more, but in a frustrated sort of way. I'm also looking for a message here, which you're on the cusp of illustrating but don't quite get there.
I don't know how a scar can go from the forehead and then meander down to the pony's back. If it goes on the front of the throat, that would be deadly. You need to be more descriptive with a claim like that, because I'm not seeing it. Is it through the back of the mane? By the ear?
I echo what JudgeDeadd says. I don't understand why they all don't pass through the veil. I guess in this case, the romance is enough to keep them together in this strange dreammare, but what about Valencia?
In this tense it should be "it never", not "it's never".
Also, I think you meant to capitalize Shimmer. :trollestia:
I don't know how a scar can go from the forehead and then meander down to the pony's back. If it goes on the front of the throat, that would be deadly. You need to be more descriptive with a claim like that, because I'm not seeing it. Is it through the back of the mane? By the ear?
I echo what JudgeDeadd says. I don't understand why they all don't pass through the veil. I guess in this case, the romance is enough to keep them together in this strange dreammare, but what about Valencia?
In this tense it should be "it never", not "it's never".
Also, I think you meant to capitalize Shimmer. :trollestia:
I think this one bites off more than it can chew. There is some really interesting stuff suggested here, but the scenario itself remains frustratingly vague. It's a common complaint in the minifics that things are too short, but I think this story suffers a lot more from the tight wordcount than most. Would love to see a longer version of this fleshing out details.
I echo the sentiments of everybody confused by what the hell is happening in this story... but I think I have a (vague) idea of what the author's going for: These characters are living out Starlight Glimmer's attempts at changing reality. And they remember it every time the universe changes.
...
I think. And there's a lot of detail (the "broken sky" for instance) that I'm having trouble reconciling with that interpretation. Author, you'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track with that.
...
I think. And there's a lot of detail (the "broken sky" for instance) that I'm having trouble reconciling with that interpretation. Author, you'll have to let me know if I'm on the right track with that.
I agree with most people here. This is mysterious and slightly spooky. I like the idea of ponies lost in a no pony’s land where each day is a replay of an other one with random elements added or removed. Could it be they lost against Discord? This sounds much like what a chaos god could do.
All in all, well written, solid and eerie like a Twilight Zone episode, enough to earn my slate top.
All in all, well written, solid and eerie like a Twilight Zone episode, enough to earn my slate top.
Last of the finalists, for me, huzzah!
This is... hm. The triple threat, three story categories I see very commonly here:
- "Here's a cool concept! But not a story about or around it. Just the concept, there, existing on display."
- "Here's a cool setting! But not a story in it. Just an infodump about the setting."
- "Here's a lot of dramatic emotional language! But not used in a story. Just feel the emotions and don't ask about anything else."
There's a lot of surface appeal here. Tons of stuff thrown at a wall, in the hopes some of it will stick, like it's trying to make me imagine the sorts of stories that might arise in this setting or with these tones. But this piece itself? Not a story. Threadbare characters, no movement, no plot, no action, no arc, not much structure. The first two sections are completely arbitrary. You could show only one of them, or zero, or add five or twenty more, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the overall nature of the piece.
The reason I'm harping on that a bit is the reason it disappoints me, because it could be a story. It's so close! Just give us some substance along with the style, run some actual continuity between the sections and give the characters goals, and we're there.
Don't be afraid to let your characters do things. Don't be afraid of your readers finding out What's Going On. This is a neat little thought as it is, don't be afraid to make it more. Thanks for writing!
This is... hm. The triple threat, three story categories I see very commonly here:
- "Here's a cool concept! But not a story about or around it. Just the concept, there, existing on display."
- "Here's a cool setting! But not a story in it. Just an infodump about the setting."
- "Here's a lot of dramatic emotional language! But not used in a story. Just feel the emotions and don't ask about anything else."
There's a lot of surface appeal here. Tons of stuff thrown at a wall, in the hopes some of it will stick, like it's trying to make me imagine the sorts of stories that might arise in this setting or with these tones. But this piece itself? Not a story. Threadbare characters, no movement, no plot, no action, no arc, not much structure. The first two sections are completely arbitrary. You could show only one of them, or zero, or add five or twenty more, and it wouldn't really make a difference to the overall nature of the piece.
The reason I'm harping on that a bit is the reason it disappoints me, because it could be a story. It's so close! Just give us some substance along with the style, run some actual continuity between the sections and give the characters goals, and we're there.
Don't be afraid to let your characters do things. Don't be afraid of your readers finding out What's Going On. This is a neat little thought as it is, don't be afraid to make it more. Thanks for writing!
I'll be blunt: I can't really think of substantive commentary on this one and am a bit unsure what to do with it.
I can't believe this one placed 17th. I thought it was a top contender, despite its flaws.
Tomorrow
Well, it only took me 12 months to reach the finals of a round again.
The concept for the story was a warped version of the Mandela effect; a town in which everybody's past changed every day. The flimsy narrative background for it was that occurs before Celestia/Luna have defeated Discord, or afterwards, but in a small remaining pocket of chaos that nobody's noticed; the references to a broken sky were in that vein. Each and every day, everybody's memories - and the town itself - changes, and the inhabitants slowly forget their multitude of pasts, to the point where the only thing they're able to consistently remember is that the Sisters left them there.
To everybody who found the story too vague - you're right. It was.The idea would probably be better befitting a short story round, where I could flesh out the characters, and explore the effects of the setting on them and their relationships, rather than two flimsy introductory scenes leading into 400 words of exposition dump. Vagueness in general is a recurring problem for me; I think part of the answer might be dedicating more time to working on the story. I wasn't intending to enter this round at all, but the prompt matched an idea, and I probably needed a break from that report anyway, right?
Thank you for all of your reviews.
>>PaulAsaran
Thanks for the kind words! It's gotten to the point where I'm worried of a positive review from you, because it means I've written too vaguely for the rest of the write-off :P .
>>Light_Striker
Nice way of phrasing it.
>>Chris
Thanks for the constructive feedback; it was quite helpful. Great to have you back!
>>Posh
Now that would be an interesting change to the premise; it'd definitely ground it more firmly in the events of the show.
>>Ranmilia
Cheers for the constructive feedback - and for the sheer number of detailed reviews you did this round.
>>Monokeras >>Trick_Question
You two are lovely, you know that?
Well, it only took me 12 months to reach the finals of a round again.
The concept for the story was a warped version of the Mandela effect; a town in which everybody's past changed every day. The flimsy narrative background for it was that occurs before Celestia/Luna have defeated Discord, or afterwards, but in a small remaining pocket of chaos that nobody's noticed; the references to a broken sky were in that vein. Each and every day, everybody's memories - and the town itself - changes, and the inhabitants slowly forget their multitude of pasts, to the point where the only thing they're able to consistently remember is that the Sisters left them there.
To everybody who found the story too vague - you're right. It was.The idea would probably be better befitting a short story round, where I could flesh out the characters, and explore the effects of the setting on them and their relationships, rather than two flimsy introductory scenes leading into 400 words of exposition dump. Vagueness in general is a recurring problem for me; I think part of the answer might be dedicating more time to working on the story. I wasn't intending to enter this round at all, but the prompt matched an idea, and I probably needed a break from that report anyway, right?
Thank you for all of your reviews.
>>PaulAsaran
Thanks for the kind words! It's gotten to the point where I'm worried of a positive review from you, because it means I've written too vaguely for the rest of the write-off :P .
>>Light_Striker
I wish it did something other than just be a snow globe, though.
Nice way of phrasing it.
>>Chris
Thanks for the constructive feedback; it was quite helpful. Great to have you back!
>>Posh
These characters are living out Starlight Glimmer's attempts at changing reality. And they remember it every time the universe changes.
Now that would be an interesting change to the premise; it'd definitely ground it more firmly in the events of the show.
>>Ranmilia
Cheers for the constructive feedback - and for the sheer number of detailed reviews you did this round.
>>Monokeras >>Trick_Question
You two are lovely, you know that?