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Spectrum
Sounds.
Tiny. Muffled. Distant.
Little whisper-sensations, too. There and there--light pressures, little lines of existence pressing into the nothingness.
More sounds. Defined ones, now. A strange noise that is neither song nor cry, but a bubbling mixture of the two. There’s a crinkling as the whisper-sensations blossom into proper movement. Jostling.
A sudden halt. Soft, clumsy scratching, a pause, and then a mighty roar as all of reality is created in one thought and ripped apart in the next. He fully feels the rigid shell trapping him only as it is torn away, only sees the fleeting scraps of darkness as it is peeled from eyes he did not realize he possessed. Sound crashes freely over him and he drinks it in, revelling in the delightful fullness of it all.
The air has another quality to it, too, a sort of silent sound. The melody of it swirls through the space--a gentle sweetness that lazily tickles his nostrils, a tantalizing pungency that pulls at a dull yearning in his belly, a bittersharp sterility lurking behind it all.
He breathes it in, all of it. And just when it feels as though he is about to overflow with the sensation of it all, a tiny hand wraps its chubby fingers around him and the world explodes into color.
He cannot think. He cannot breathe. He can only be, as the music of creation seeps into every crevice of the universe, flavoring the sights of the world before his wondering eyes.
At last (all too soon), the colors run full, and his surroundings begin to settle.
The room is large. Silver paper-scraps litter the floor around him, occasionally burning white in the brief light-flashes that race through the air. Hazy figures begin to solidify into giants, gathered around the space. They are noisy, but he finds that he can let it wash past him without any real effort. He pays them no mind, because there is a soft-faced creature with the most brilliant green eyes beaming back at him.
“Kitty,” she says happily.
“No, sweetheart,” one of the giants says, reaching over with smooth, measured movements. The world darkens for a minute, but then the hand retreats, one final scrap of paper pinched between its fingers. “It’s a toy puppy. Can you say puppy, Claire?”
“Kitty,” she insists, pulling him close to her chest. “He’s Kitty.”
The name sinks in, much like the warmth emanating from the girl’s embrace. As her heartbeat pounds a cadence into his ears, Kitty feels the world settle more firmly into place. Sensations stretch and make way for each other, until the kaleidoscope of being has stilled into a viewing-glass.
When all is still at last, time begins to flow.
The summer seasons are savory.
The air on the playground shimmers in the sweltering heat, so Claire hides in the play tower while Kitty ventures out into the desert to vanquish the fearsome creatures lurking at the bottom of the slide. The monsters shift and change with her mood--sometimes there are nothing more than row upon row of sharp, smelly teeth, while other afternoons give rise to swashbuckling sword-fights with pirates that look suspiciously like the villains from Saturday’s cartoons. He usually winds up needing a swift rescue from Claire, but she never seems to mind swooping in to save the day.
If the days smell like wood chips and adventure, the nights are scented with freshly-cut grass and magic, and both day and night is doused in a coat of green.
The entire season is green, so green. Almost as green as Claire’s eyes, which dance in the light of the stars as they search for fairies in the firefly-speckled dusk. Kitty points out the devious creatures, even wrestles one to the ground in the hopes that Claire will finally get to see its pixieish face and dewy wings, but it vanishes and Kitty’s efforts are for naught.
Next time, he consoles her that evening, after they are tucked into bed.
“Next time,” she mumbles.
Autumns are tangy. The air bursts with crispness, as sharp and crunchy as the frost that lines the windows and lawn each morning.
Kitty gets his own scarf, a scrap of flannel with the ends snipped into a fringe. Claire winds it around his neck faithfully, gently pulling his floppy ears out of the folds so that they hang free when they venture into the backyard.
They are pilots, now. Kitty finds himself strapped to her back as they race through the asteroid field, dodging fire from the enemy ships. He scans the path ahead, and nearly despairs at the sheer size of the Imperial forces surrounding their starfighter.
Not looking good, Captain. They’re following us, he warns, biting down on his Super-Fast-Shooter 5000 and aiming nowhere in particular. He’s long since learned that it never matters where he aims--something usually explodes. Quite often, that something is empty space. More often, that empty space turns out to be a lamp, picture, or otherwise absurdly breakable object.
The empty space at the other end of the barrel flickers for a moment, changes color (orange, orange and round and lying in pieces from where Claire kicked it), and then another enemy ship appears out of nowhere and Kitty bites back down on the trigger.
“We’re taking damage!” the Captain shrieks, yanking the starfighter to one side and then another in an impressive display of finesse. Her current course seems to be leading straight into the biggest starship in the Imperial fleet, but no fear taints the moment. Kitty knows Captain Claire will change direction at the last possible second. The ships tailing their starfighter won’t expect the change, and will crash right into the big one.
The Captain, perhaps tired from thinking of such a brilliant plan, forgets to change direction. She and Kitty plow right into the ship and bounce off, reeling.
“MAYDAYYY! IMMEDIATE CRASH LANDING!” The Captain yells.
Kitty screams as the ship tilts dangerously and then ejects them in a fiery explosion that looks a lot like last year’s Fourth of July fireworks display. He turns to his captain as they fall apart, their momentum carrying them into separate corners of the universe.
Captain Claire, he gasps, reaching a dirt-smudged paw toward her staunch expression. I just want you to know that you are the most brave, most awesome, most amazing Captain that I ever flew with, and also Katy from art class is a dirty liar because your painting did not look like a diseased tater tot. It was the most amazing, most beatifulest, most—”
“Claire! Come in for dinner!”
Kitty stares at Claire from the other side of the leaf pile. Her green eyes stand out in stark contrast to the sea of reds, browns, and oranges that settle around them.
Do you think there’ll be squash?
“Ew. I hope not.”
The spice-scented winter seasons are filled with smells; the color has seeped from the plants to the air.
Cinnamon, the sweet scent of afternoons when Chef Claire takes on reigning Cookie King Daddy and Kitty has the Very Important Job of watching to make sure nothing in the oven catches fire.
Pine, the smell of evenings spent lying underneath the tree, gazing up into the colored lights and dreaming of the coming holiday.
Chocolate, hot and sweet and hot--really really hot ow, be careful Claire--that warms their hearts and scalds their tongues but is welcome all the same after a cold night of caroling.
Spring is always soft, so it is not too noticeable that the world is fading until Kitty misses an entire summer.
Kitty isn’t sure how it happens. One day, he’s out slaying dragons in the cool spring air (and doing most of the work, mind you--High Mage Claire doesn’t seem to have her heart in it, and she keeps muttering something about Freddy and dumb and not immature), and that evening Kitty winds up on a shelf in the closet instead of tucked under Claire’s arm.
The next thing he knows, he’s being hauled out into pine-scented air, and there are cookies and hot chocolate and he watches as Claire unwraps present after present. He tries to pretend that he doesn’t notice how boring her presents are: clothes and books and pens and paper that she seems excited to receive.
Their adventures dwindle. He can see through her imagination. The hunt for fairies is put off, the pirates seem to have repented and become honest sailors, and no Imperial forces come to attack them. Instead, Kitty sits on his shelf and stands guard over this new kingdom, ensuring that Claire’s newly-instated “No boys allowed” rule is not violated. The world quiets. Slows. Fades, ever-so-slightly.
One day, surrounded by yesteryear’s dust, Kitty finds that he cannot remember what the color green looks like.
When Claire is fifteen, there comes a storm violent enough to warrant a foray back into her childhood. She pulls Kitty from his shelf and clutches him to her chest as fervently and tightly as the first time they met, and everything settles into place.
The world is loud, so loud, as thunder crashes and raindrops slam against her window. Kitty cannot see her eyes, those glorious green eyes, for she doesn’t turn on lamp and world is nothing but stony, ominously-shaded greys, but he can feel
(her heartbeat, her arms wrapped around his body, the fear-fueled warmth seeping from her embrace)
and he can hear
(her heartbeat, her breathing as it deepens and slows from a panicked racing to a tranquil wave lapping against the shores of slumber)
and he is content.
When the sun rises, Kitty catches a brief glimpse of a blue sky peeking out from behind pale yellow curtains, but then Claire hurriedly stuffs him back on his shelf. The quick pat she gives his head is almost furtive; she pats and then yanks her hand back, as though the touch of him might condemn her to an eternal childhood.
Within a week, the color has drained from the world again. He watches her high school years in grayscale.
She walks in one year wearing a flowing robe and a funny, square hat on her head and the world perks up a bit; the wandering gaze that flows across the walls is as vibrant and energy-filled a ray of sunshine seeking out the first flowers of the spring. She looks right over him, though, and the world fades back into its persistently lackluster state.
Later that week, he watches her pack some of her belongings into boxes. The bedroom is black and white when she shuts the door, and he click of the latch is muffled.
He feels the time pass, at first. Seasons move in light and dark and light again. The shadows deepen each round, and he fears they will one day refuse to budge. He holds on to time.
But then it stops
and he floats
un t e t h e r e d
Weeks
months?
years
Sounds.
Tiny. Muffled. Distant.
Little whisper-sensations, too. There and there--delicate pressures, little planes of existence pressing bravely against the nothingness.
Jostling, a whisper in the silence, distant sensations that have no real connection, no real meaning.
The faintest stirring of light as the pressures slip away.
Movement, now--movement and a sound like a babbling brook. And then another sound. This one oozes with warmth and flows in and out of his ears as easily as water pours from the sky.
“ousaykitty”
He reaches for the sound, gulps at it like a parched creature desperate for any hint of liquid.
“Kitty. Kih-tee.”
He knows that sound. He knows that sound.
The world lightens rapidly now, blooming before his eyes. Light wheels and churns as the soundscape struggles to fall into place, and then a small, insistent hand circles around his paw, and the world explodes into color.
He does not think. He does not breathe. He merely is, content to revel in the magnificence of existence as the music of creation seeps into every crevice of the universe, flavoring the sights of the world before his ever-wondering gaze.
The baby boy staring back at him has the most brilliant green eyes.
Tiny. Muffled. Distant.
Little whisper-sensations, too. There and there--light pressures, little lines of existence pressing into the nothingness.
More sounds. Defined ones, now. A strange noise that is neither song nor cry, but a bubbling mixture of the two. There’s a crinkling as the whisper-sensations blossom into proper movement. Jostling.
A sudden halt. Soft, clumsy scratching, a pause, and then a mighty roar as all of reality is created in one thought and ripped apart in the next. He fully feels the rigid shell trapping him only as it is torn away, only sees the fleeting scraps of darkness as it is peeled from eyes he did not realize he possessed. Sound crashes freely over him and he drinks it in, revelling in the delightful fullness of it all.
The air has another quality to it, too, a sort of silent sound. The melody of it swirls through the space--a gentle sweetness that lazily tickles his nostrils, a tantalizing pungency that pulls at a dull yearning in his belly, a bittersharp sterility lurking behind it all.
He breathes it in, all of it. And just when it feels as though he is about to overflow with the sensation of it all, a tiny hand wraps its chubby fingers around him and the world explodes into color.
He cannot think. He cannot breathe. He can only be, as the music of creation seeps into every crevice of the universe, flavoring the sights of the world before his wondering eyes.
At last (all too soon), the colors run full, and his surroundings begin to settle.
The room is large. Silver paper-scraps litter the floor around him, occasionally burning white in the brief light-flashes that race through the air. Hazy figures begin to solidify into giants, gathered around the space. They are noisy, but he finds that he can let it wash past him without any real effort. He pays them no mind, because there is a soft-faced creature with the most brilliant green eyes beaming back at him.
“Kitty,” she says happily.
“No, sweetheart,” one of the giants says, reaching over with smooth, measured movements. The world darkens for a minute, but then the hand retreats, one final scrap of paper pinched between its fingers. “It’s a toy puppy. Can you say puppy, Claire?”
“Kitty,” she insists, pulling him close to her chest. “He’s Kitty.”
The name sinks in, much like the warmth emanating from the girl’s embrace. As her heartbeat pounds a cadence into his ears, Kitty feels the world settle more firmly into place. Sensations stretch and make way for each other, until the kaleidoscope of being has stilled into a viewing-glass.
When all is still at last, time begins to flow.
The summer seasons are savory.
The air on the playground shimmers in the sweltering heat, so Claire hides in the play tower while Kitty ventures out into the desert to vanquish the fearsome creatures lurking at the bottom of the slide. The monsters shift and change with her mood--sometimes there are nothing more than row upon row of sharp, smelly teeth, while other afternoons give rise to swashbuckling sword-fights with pirates that look suspiciously like the villains from Saturday’s cartoons. He usually winds up needing a swift rescue from Claire, but she never seems to mind swooping in to save the day.
If the days smell like wood chips and adventure, the nights are scented with freshly-cut grass and magic, and both day and night is doused in a coat of green.
The entire season is green, so green. Almost as green as Claire’s eyes, which dance in the light of the stars as they search for fairies in the firefly-speckled dusk. Kitty points out the devious creatures, even wrestles one to the ground in the hopes that Claire will finally get to see its pixieish face and dewy wings, but it vanishes and Kitty’s efforts are for naught.
Next time, he consoles her that evening, after they are tucked into bed.
“Next time,” she mumbles.
Autumns are tangy. The air bursts with crispness, as sharp and crunchy as the frost that lines the windows and lawn each morning.
Kitty gets his own scarf, a scrap of flannel with the ends snipped into a fringe. Claire winds it around his neck faithfully, gently pulling his floppy ears out of the folds so that they hang free when they venture into the backyard.
They are pilots, now. Kitty finds himself strapped to her back as they race through the asteroid field, dodging fire from the enemy ships. He scans the path ahead, and nearly despairs at the sheer size of the Imperial forces surrounding their starfighter.
Not looking good, Captain. They’re following us, he warns, biting down on his Super-Fast-Shooter 5000 and aiming nowhere in particular. He’s long since learned that it never matters where he aims--something usually explodes. Quite often, that something is empty space. More often, that empty space turns out to be a lamp, picture, or otherwise absurdly breakable object.
The empty space at the other end of the barrel flickers for a moment, changes color (orange, orange and round and lying in pieces from where Claire kicked it), and then another enemy ship appears out of nowhere and Kitty bites back down on the trigger.
“We’re taking damage!” the Captain shrieks, yanking the starfighter to one side and then another in an impressive display of finesse. Her current course seems to be leading straight into the biggest starship in the Imperial fleet, but no fear taints the moment. Kitty knows Captain Claire will change direction at the last possible second. The ships tailing their starfighter won’t expect the change, and will crash right into the big one.
The Captain, perhaps tired from thinking of such a brilliant plan, forgets to change direction. She and Kitty plow right into the ship and bounce off, reeling.
“MAYDAYYY! IMMEDIATE CRASH LANDING!” The Captain yells.
Kitty screams as the ship tilts dangerously and then ejects them in a fiery explosion that looks a lot like last year’s Fourth of July fireworks display. He turns to his captain as they fall apart, their momentum carrying them into separate corners of the universe.
Captain Claire, he gasps, reaching a dirt-smudged paw toward her staunch expression. I just want you to know that you are the most brave, most awesome, most amazing Captain that I ever flew with, and also Katy from art class is a dirty liar because your painting did not look like a diseased tater tot. It was the most amazing, most beatifulest, most—”
“Claire! Come in for dinner!”
Kitty stares at Claire from the other side of the leaf pile. Her green eyes stand out in stark contrast to the sea of reds, browns, and oranges that settle around them.
Do you think there’ll be squash?
“Ew. I hope not.”
The spice-scented winter seasons are filled with smells; the color has seeped from the plants to the air.
Cinnamon, the sweet scent of afternoons when Chef Claire takes on reigning Cookie King Daddy and Kitty has the Very Important Job of watching to make sure nothing in the oven catches fire.
Pine, the smell of evenings spent lying underneath the tree, gazing up into the colored lights and dreaming of the coming holiday.
Chocolate, hot and sweet and hot--really really hot ow, be careful Claire--that warms their hearts and scalds their tongues but is welcome all the same after a cold night of caroling.
Spring is always soft, so it is not too noticeable that the world is fading until Kitty misses an entire summer.
Kitty isn’t sure how it happens. One day, he’s out slaying dragons in the cool spring air (and doing most of the work, mind you--High Mage Claire doesn’t seem to have her heart in it, and she keeps muttering something about Freddy and dumb and not immature), and that evening Kitty winds up on a shelf in the closet instead of tucked under Claire’s arm.
The next thing he knows, he’s being hauled out into pine-scented air, and there are cookies and hot chocolate and he watches as Claire unwraps present after present. He tries to pretend that he doesn’t notice how boring her presents are: clothes and books and pens and paper that she seems excited to receive.
Their adventures dwindle. He can see through her imagination. The hunt for fairies is put off, the pirates seem to have repented and become honest sailors, and no Imperial forces come to attack them. Instead, Kitty sits on his shelf and stands guard over this new kingdom, ensuring that Claire’s newly-instated “No boys allowed” rule is not violated. The world quiets. Slows. Fades, ever-so-slightly.
One day, surrounded by yesteryear’s dust, Kitty finds that he cannot remember what the color green looks like.
When Claire is fifteen, there comes a storm violent enough to warrant a foray back into her childhood. She pulls Kitty from his shelf and clutches him to her chest as fervently and tightly as the first time they met, and everything settles into place.
The world is loud, so loud, as thunder crashes and raindrops slam against her window. Kitty cannot see her eyes, those glorious green eyes, for she doesn’t turn on lamp and world is nothing but stony, ominously-shaded greys, but he can feel
(her heartbeat, her arms wrapped around his body, the fear-fueled warmth seeping from her embrace)
and he can hear
(her heartbeat, her breathing as it deepens and slows from a panicked racing to a tranquil wave lapping against the shores of slumber)
and he is content.
When the sun rises, Kitty catches a brief glimpse of a blue sky peeking out from behind pale yellow curtains, but then Claire hurriedly stuffs him back on his shelf. The quick pat she gives his head is almost furtive; she pats and then yanks her hand back, as though the touch of him might condemn her to an eternal childhood.
Within a week, the color has drained from the world again. He watches her high school years in grayscale.
She walks in one year wearing a flowing robe and a funny, square hat on her head and the world perks up a bit; the wandering gaze that flows across the walls is as vibrant and energy-filled a ray of sunshine seeking out the first flowers of the spring. She looks right over him, though, and the world fades back into its persistently lackluster state.
Later that week, he watches her pack some of her belongings into boxes. The bedroom is black and white when she shuts the door, and he click of the latch is muffled.
He feels the time pass, at first. Seasons move in light and dark and light again. The shadows deepen each round, and he fears they will one day refuse to budge. He holds on to time.
But then it stops
and he floats
un t e t h e r e d
Weeks
months?
years
Sounds.
Tiny. Muffled. Distant.
Little whisper-sensations, too. There and there--delicate pressures, little planes of existence pressing bravely against the nothingness.
Jostling, a whisper in the silence, distant sensations that have no real connection, no real meaning.
The faintest stirring of light as the pressures slip away.
Movement, now--movement and a sound like a babbling brook. And then another sound. This one oozes with warmth and flows in and out of his ears as easily as water pours from the sky.
“ousaykitty”
He reaches for the sound, gulps at it like a parched creature desperate for any hint of liquid.
“Kitty. Kih-tee.”
He knows that sound. He knows that sound.
The world lightens rapidly now, blooming before his eyes. Light wheels and churns as the soundscape struggles to fall into place, and then a small, insistent hand circles around his paw, and the world explodes into color.
He does not think. He does not breathe. He merely is, content to revel in the magnificence of existence as the music of creation seeps into every crevice of the universe, flavoring the sights of the world before his ever-wondering gaze.
The baby boy staring back at him has the most brilliant green eyes.
4 – Spectrum
I like that the hook is full of short, punchy words. I'm less fond of how abstract it is. It's not doing much to suck me in, since I can't really wrap my head around the perspective I'm supposed to be reading from. Light pressures on what? Existence pressing into nothingness?
Ohhhh, birth. I don't know how I feel about this honestly. I kind of hate that it took me seven paragraphs to have even a hint of what I was reading. There's a lot of nicely detailed sensory language here, mixed with what I'd call pretentious abstraction. Words like "peeled", "crashes", "revelling", "tickles", and "pungency" are all great lead-ins to... well, something. But none of them ever seem to get paid off with detail. There's a lot of tone here, but I don't feel like there was any single passage I needed to read before "tiny hand" and "chubby fingers".
Or, well, I guess not birth. That makes more sense with how the sentence was structured. Ugh. Honestly, author, there's pretty much nothing I'm liking here right now. I think I'm just going to read this thing through and give some final thoughts. I expect the biggest problems I'll have with this story are the ones I've already been harping about.
This one really fails to hold my attention. Again, you've got some very nice descriptive detail here, author. I suppose the robotboy named Sue puppy named Kitty is kind of a cute idea, but he's a little too Hobbesian for my taste, and for no clear reason. Or maybe he's not even a robot? He just seems to have a lot of agency for a toy.
I'm sure a lot of readers will probably love this, but I'm not among them. The hook feels too pretentious and never lets me get engaged. The description work is good (arguably even fantastic), and the flights of fancy are probably going to be a big selling point to anyone who's managed to engage with the story. To me, though, this just feels trite and annoying.
Yes, boys and girls, I'm officially back.
HORSE: ▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉
TIER: Misaimed
I like that the hook is full of short, punchy words. I'm less fond of how abstract it is. It's not doing much to suck me in, since I can't really wrap my head around the perspective I'm supposed to be reading from. Light pressures on what? Existence pressing into nothingness?
Ohhhh, birth. I don't know how I feel about this honestly. I kind of hate that it took me seven paragraphs to have even a hint of what I was reading. There's a lot of nicely detailed sensory language here, mixed with what I'd call pretentious abstraction. Words like "peeled", "crashes", "revelling", "tickles", and "pungency" are all great lead-ins to... well, something. But none of them ever seem to get paid off with detail. There's a lot of tone here, but I don't feel like there was any single passage I needed to read before "tiny hand" and "chubby fingers".
Or, well, I guess not birth. That makes more sense with how the sentence was structured. Ugh. Honestly, author, there's pretty much nothing I'm liking here right now. I think I'm just going to read this thing through and give some final thoughts. I expect the biggest problems I'll have with this story are the ones I've already been harping about.
This one really fails to hold my attention. Again, you've got some very nice descriptive detail here, author. I suppose the robot
I'm sure a lot of readers will probably love this, but I'm not among them. The hook feels too pretentious and never lets me get engaged. The description work is good (arguably even fantastic), and the flights of fancy are probably going to be a big selling point to anyone who's managed to engage with the story. To me, though, this just feels trite and annoying.
Yes, boys and girls, I'm officially back.
HORSE: ▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉▉
TIER: Misaimed
Spectrum
First story on my slate, and the shortest too. Let’s see if brevity works in its favor.
First thoughts: Got some evocative language going here.
There’s a style of writing that I sometimes fall prey to. I don’t know its official name, but I’ll describe it: deliberate use of incomplete sentences for effect.
Verb, alone. Seething.
A noun, an adjective. A rock, obdurate.
This story leads with this style, and only slowly backs away. It certainly forces the reader into the story, presenting them with concrete sensations to wrap their inner eyes around. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s presented so simply. It forces the perspective closer into the narrator’s mind than any other style I’m familiar with.
But, as always, overuse is the bane of style. Flog a technique at your own risk. Spectrum, just in its first few lines, is already dangerously close to overusing this style.
Then there’s the matter of language. Is this overwrought? “The air has another quality to it, too, a sort of silent sound. The melody of it swirls through the space--a gentle sweetness that lazily tickles his nostrils, a tantalizing pungency that pulls at a dull yearning in his belly, a bittersharp sterility lurking behind it all.”
Evocative language, yes. But evocative by itself isn’t enough -- words have meaning, but I’m not sure these sentences do. A silent sound? Tantalizing pungency? Bittersharp sterility?
The reader may marvel at these constructs, but they won’t feel any of those things. They aren’t grounded in human experience.
I like the childhood imagination on display. It’s not clear what ‘Kitty’ is really seeing, or if he’s just acting on Claire’s lead, but it’s a fun read. Also, the descriptions here are better: I understand days that smell like wood chips, and nights scented with freshly cut grass (and magic, fine).
It’s in the autumn phase that Kitty begins to find his voice, but it’s clear that he’s just speaking Claire’s words. The lines of praise for her piloting skills, and defending her art from Katy in art class, could clearly only come from Claire’s mind. And yet the story is from Kitty’s perspective. It’s like Calvin and Hobbes, but from the perspective of Hobbes. Interesting.
Ah, the story becomes clear in the next Autumn. Claire is putting away her childhood things, of which Kitty is one. The emotional manipulation is handled in very short order, here: only five paragraphs is needed to relegate Kitty to the dustbin.
And we’re back at the beginning. The circle is complete. Kitty has a few more years of play and fulfilment before, we presume, he endures another two decades on Claire’s son’s shelf. So, when you think about it, this ending isn’t really as uplifting as it seems.
But I wonder if this story isn’t really trying to tell us about toys and how they must experience the world. The wonder, after all, comes from Claire’s imagination and play. Perhaps this story is about the magic of childhood, and how it is rediscovered in children. The toy is incidental.
I think I prefer that explanation more. I’ll be curious to hear what the author feels when this is over.
First story on my slate, and the shortest too. Let’s see if brevity works in its favor.
First thoughts: Got some evocative language going here.
There’s a style of writing that I sometimes fall prey to. I don’t know its official name, but I’ll describe it: deliberate use of incomplete sentences for effect.
Verb, alone. Seething.
A noun, an adjective. A rock, obdurate.
This story leads with this style, and only slowly backs away. It certainly forces the reader into the story, presenting them with concrete sensations to wrap their inner eyes around. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s presented so simply. It forces the perspective closer into the narrator’s mind than any other style I’m familiar with.
But, as always, overuse is the bane of style. Flog a technique at your own risk. Spectrum, just in its first few lines, is already dangerously close to overusing this style.
Then there’s the matter of language. Is this overwrought? “The air has another quality to it, too, a sort of silent sound. The melody of it swirls through the space--a gentle sweetness that lazily tickles his nostrils, a tantalizing pungency that pulls at a dull yearning in his belly, a bittersharp sterility lurking behind it all.”
Evocative language, yes. But evocative by itself isn’t enough -- words have meaning, but I’m not sure these sentences do. A silent sound? Tantalizing pungency? Bittersharp sterility?
The reader may marvel at these constructs, but they won’t feel any of those things. They aren’t grounded in human experience.
I like the childhood imagination on display. It’s not clear what ‘Kitty’ is really seeing, or if he’s just acting on Claire’s lead, but it’s a fun read. Also, the descriptions here are better: I understand days that smell like wood chips, and nights scented with freshly cut grass (and magic, fine).
It’s in the autumn phase that Kitty begins to find his voice, but it’s clear that he’s just speaking Claire’s words. The lines of praise for her piloting skills, and defending her art from Katy in art class, could clearly only come from Claire’s mind. And yet the story is from Kitty’s perspective. It’s like Calvin and Hobbes, but from the perspective of Hobbes. Interesting.
Ah, the story becomes clear in the next Autumn. Claire is putting away her childhood things, of which Kitty is one. The emotional manipulation is handled in very short order, here: only five paragraphs is needed to relegate Kitty to the dustbin.
And we’re back at the beginning. The circle is complete. Kitty has a few more years of play and fulfilment before, we presume, he endures another two decades on Claire’s son’s shelf. So, when you think about it, this ending isn’t really as uplifting as it seems.
But I wonder if this story isn’t really trying to tell us about toys and how they must experience the world. The wonder, after all, comes from Claire’s imagination and play. Perhaps this story is about the magic of childhood, and how it is rediscovered in children. The toy is incidental.
I think I prefer that explanation more. I’ll be curious to hear what the author feels when this is over.
Well, well, well.
FIrst, the conclusion (and the whole story) tastes much like Horizon’s Quiet Boy and Moon Horse. It’s not the same set-up, but it’s the same arc. You add a sprinkling of Toy Story and you have it. So you’ve not really ventured into new territory here.
I’m on Bradel side (and possibly also Cold’s) when it comes to the beginning. My biggest gripe here is that a baby, or a newborn entity, is normally not born with the innate knowledge of the world. Even words like ‘colour’ or ‘sound’ belong to a higher class of abstraction than ‘bang’, ‘light’, ‘dark’, etc. Feelings of a baby have no names, because what a baby experiences is non-verbal. So topping that with ‘paper’ sounds terribly off for me.
That being said, I love your description of the four seasons, and your evocation of a child’s world, even though it borders sometimes on cliché. And yes, being a toy is not a very enviable position, especially nowadays when they really have become disposable objects.
Overall, it’s a competently written story, but having read Horizon’s story before—which, by the way, I found more engaging, because it maybe was more personal—and also seen Toy Story, I can’t really say it stands out. Not a rehash, but fairly close.
FIrst, the conclusion (and the whole story) tastes much like Horizon’s Quiet Boy and Moon Horse. It’s not the same set-up, but it’s the same arc. You add a sprinkling of Toy Story and you have it. So you’ve not really ventured into new territory here.
I’m on Bradel side (and possibly also Cold’s) when it comes to the beginning. My biggest gripe here is that a baby, or a newborn entity, is normally not born with the innate knowledge of the world. Even words like ‘colour’ or ‘sound’ belong to a higher class of abstraction than ‘bang’, ‘light’, ‘dark’, etc. Feelings of a baby have no names, because what a baby experiences is non-verbal. So topping that with ‘paper’ sounds terribly off for me.
That being said, I love your description of the four seasons, and your evocation of a child’s world, even though it borders sometimes on cliché. And yes, being a toy is not a very enviable position, especially nowadays when they really have become disposable objects.
Overall, it’s a competently written story, but having read Horizon’s story before—which, by the way, I found more engaging, because it maybe was more personal—and also seen Toy Story, I can’t really say it stands out. Not a rehash, but fairly close.
“Little lines of existence” was a little hard to parse. Also, at first I thought we were witnessing a hatching. There was some creative word use and imagery; not always completely sensible, but atmospheric and vivid. Along those lines, I found the use of scents particularly noteworthy.
Given your skill at description, I was briefly tripped up by the ‘orange round thing’ at the end of her blaster barrel. Orange and round might be an old jack-o-lantern, but that wouldn’t be attached to a toy gun…
I liked Kitty’s voice. It struck me as not quite a little girl’s, and there were occasional bits of light snark as well. This combined to throw a little doubt on the 'all in the imagination' angle. Names like the ‘Super-Fast-Shooter 5000’ were amusing. Kitty being passed on, while reasonably predictable, was still nice to see.
Being the guilty party behind Odyssey/Floor is Lava, a fic exploring a child’s imagination (or is it just imagination?) is definitely something I can get behind, though you took a different tack than I did.
Overall, while not completely novel, I found it evocative and engrossing; great atmosphere and clever characterization, even if the plot was fairly straightforward. A fun read.
Given your skill at description, I was briefly tripped up by the ‘orange round thing’ at the end of her blaster barrel. Orange and round might be an old jack-o-lantern, but that wouldn’t be attached to a toy gun…
I liked Kitty’s voice. It struck me as not quite a little girl’s, and there were occasional bits of light snark as well. This combined to throw a little doubt on the 'all in the imagination' angle. Names like the ‘Super-Fast-Shooter 5000’ were amusing. Kitty being passed on, while reasonably predictable, was still nice to see.
Being the guilty party behind Odyssey/Floor is Lava, a fic exploring a child’s imagination (or is it just imagination?) is definitely something I can get behind, though you took a different tack than I did.
Overall, while not completely novel, I found it evocative and engrossing; great atmosphere and clever characterization, even if the plot was fairly straightforward. A fun read.
Whew! Boy, this one took me for a ride. The story is excellent and covers it’s flaw through principles of innocence. I’ll explain more in the review. The story takes the perspective of an object. Now while it sounds bland, it’s actually quite whimsical! The story starts off on a questionable scene. It got very confusing very fast. With an open mind we start to see the world around us forming into someone’s, or something’s, viewpoint. At first I thought it’s probably someone traveling through dimensions of space or the gift of life. The word that completely confused me once again was “kitty” and “puppy”. So in the end it makes you think if it’s an animal giving birth. That’s not the case as this strange being ends up hugging it. Me being a dog owner knows pet 101: You never just touch a newborn pup or kitten. So that ruled it out. Now I continued on to thinking about the giants mentioned and the smooth girl who was getting in touch with this character that was just described. After figuring out the answer that puzzling question that is was a toy. I had to take a break, from the surprise. A toy? All that beautiful intro was meant for unboxing a toy and presenting it to a young daughter named Claire. It really blew my mind. So the story continues on and tells the tale of a little girl’s love for her favorite stuffed toy puppy.
NEGATIVES
-Realism
Let’s start off with the negatives first. The story does little next to nothing to show reality pass this toy’s view. I would have loved a scene where Kitty gets hurt and needs to be tended to in order for him to be more realistic to the reader. This is to further hint at what he actually is and where he would stand in. It would have made a sweet potential part of the story that would have been heartwarming while still holding interest in how a toy would feel being handled and broken. Though there’s a very good reason why the author doesn’t point anything pass this toy’s mentality. It wouldn’t be a sin to break pass this point and present the reader with Claire’s point of view to show more of the story. The author probably felt like it was taboo breaking away from Kitty’s perspective, when that wouldn’t be the case. The years Claire took to growing up, could have spelled out why Kitty was left to collect dust in the first place. The potential here was Claire could have had an internal struggle with comments coming from her mother, her father, her friends, or maybe even a boyfriend. Either way I wanted to see more slice of life stuff, but ended up being denied from it to keep Kitty’s side solidified for the reader. This alone could have easily tripled the content of this story. In my opinion, this is the biggest flaw of this story. It’s barely even a flaw in itself to even mention this, as the story still works just fine without these properties.
-Description
Alright let’s be honest here. I disagreed with some of your descriptions as it just seemed odd or over the top. It would bring out the wrong idea. Like the intro pertaining to having a universe pop out all at once. As something comes into existence. With three words beginning the story, leaving the world in thought, to be barren, wasteland like, or a deep void. It’s a bit much for a toy. The word usage such as “plane” and the way you use “light” seem to refer to almost a space like feeling, giving us the impression of a wormhole or a rift of some sorts. I understand it would feel that way for Kitty, but it is highly dramatizing for something so simple. You could take a mess of words and make an epic scene out of an old man trying to chew his food. He’s still just trying to chew his food. No amount of words I use will make it any different. Though it was very touching it was drawn out to where you could understand how their bond starts between Claire and Kitty. It was just less effective since I was expecting something totally different and epic. Even the way smell was used at the start shows that it’s probably going to be used later in the story or that this thing being described is an actual being. Not only was smell barely used for content, the fact that it’s a human characteristic meant it should have been alive. But from what we get is that Kitty only comes alive through the imagination of person interacting with him. Thus him being able to smell before he can come alive just threw me for a loop. The author does excellent in all other aspects having this pseudo relationship work out. But the smell part didn’t seem to mix in well.
POSITIVES
-Interpretation
Whew! I’m excited for this part. I have so much to say for this story. The main viewpoint we read in this wonderful tale is from Kitty’s eyes and mind. Being a toy leaves for knowing next to nothing in regards for being a non sentient character. It’s beautiful how it’s translated into a live character through the imagination of Claire’s mind. From the world popping into color before Kitty, to being able to see exactly how playtime with her would be like from the eyes of a toy. With Kitty playing as a character in one of many worlds created by Claire. From space battles to monster fighting and even playing house with Dad and Mom, whom we never see btw in the story as both are just mentioned only at the start of the story and once more in between. Kitty was on a switch constantly from being alive in one place to not knowing what would happen next. Which is shown through Kitty turning almost completely inanimate as Claire leaves his side. His vision starts to blur and colors fade out as pure imagination that fueled his character leaves him. Letting only light that shined upon his button like eyes be the only thing he notices, along with dust and an overview of things in which he can’t seem to understand until he is held once more. I felt my heart skip a beat as the ending just seem to come out and touch me with Kitty once more coming back to life. Though his reaction seemed again over the top. With Kitty “imaging savory images and smacking his lips” to the feeling of being alive again from having Claire introduce him to a baby boy. I can’t say much negatives to this as it is a wonderful change of pace from normal storytelling. Though I can say that this could have also been broadened a bit more. Which would have made the ending hit us a lot harder than it normally did.
-Theatrics
Never thought I’d see such an element be used to such an extent as to literally keep me connected with my love and passion for Disney movies to keep me hooked onto a story. The imaginary world Kitty was placed in seemed so real to him. You could literally play along as he mentions what he sees through the mind of his owner. From conversations with Claire to scenarios where Kitty felt like the world in Claire’s mind was his own. His heart beat in tune with Claire’s because that’s where his identity laid within. Every toy wants to be played with and loved. Or so it’s what we’re taught as children. So the author uses this fact to give Kitty more of a sympathy role in the story. Just when I thought I was going to see Kitty interact with some trashcan, he’s instead gets handed down to another owner.These realistic moments could have played such a vital part in connecting with Kitty to a child standard in which we would all understand personally. I just thought it was wasted that this wasn’t explored more. I had so much fun reading about how much “fun” Kitty and Claire’s time together was. It made me wanna find my old toy and just hug the stuffing out of it. All of awe driven moments which could have been much more powerful with more effort.
-Content
I was between myself placing this trait of the story as a negative or a positive. Since the story does well without consent on it’s very own content, I decided to place this under positives. Now don’t get me wrong the content was just amazing by itself. I have almost no advice to give in this regards. Which this entry will mostly sound negative, though it’s just friendly advice to the author. Now the only bad part of this was, that is just simply didn’t feel like enough. Bogus right? Anyways this is one of the shorter stories in the gallery and just surprised me with how genuine it felt to read it. Though several parts of the story felt like it was missing chunks. Like big entries for Kitty. The mention of Winter comes up with only a few paragraphs to explain Kitty’s experience in the season. He doesn’t even get friends to play with, in which me myself; even as a boy, got several stuff animals when I was a child. So seeing Kitty being Claire’s only stuffed toy felt like it was missing a relatable touch. There was so many things that could have been done to make this story so much more. The author decided to stick to minimal length for this story. It could have been that they ran out of gas writing this story or maybe a lack of effort, but you can kinda feel a sense of that within the words of the story. Regardless the author is very talented and the spotlight really shines here. This loving story could use more love. Some time placed in this story would have made it a star in it’s own right.
This is one of the stories I would recommend to read. It’s so touching that it’s almost poetic. I’m such a sucker for these types of stories. While it may be perplexing in some senses, it stands out doing things you’d never expect from a story. While the title does seem to fit quite well (Spectrum:meaning the infinite condition of a set of values, ranging from field of vision to even opinions about a certain topic in a neverending scale.) It does spark a cover of a close up on Kitty’s button eyes shining with the light on him, in my mind. Per the title of course, since the word is highly associated with light and shades of colors.. Though this is only me trying to understand the author in question here. It was a great read and something I’d love to tell smaller younger readers about. Or just read as a bed time story. This story was very surprising for an E rated type. Overall good work and keep it up. (I cheated and looked up the definition of Spectrum. It actually fits the topic of this story. Explaining the infinite views of a child’s imagination. That’s what she was going for.)
NEGATIVES
-Realism
Let’s start off with the negatives first. The story does little next to nothing to show reality pass this toy’s view. I would have loved a scene where Kitty gets hurt and needs to be tended to in order for him to be more realistic to the reader. This is to further hint at what he actually is and where he would stand in. It would have made a sweet potential part of the story that would have been heartwarming while still holding interest in how a toy would feel being handled and broken. Though there’s a very good reason why the author doesn’t point anything pass this toy’s mentality. It wouldn’t be a sin to break pass this point and present the reader with Claire’s point of view to show more of the story. The author probably felt like it was taboo breaking away from Kitty’s perspective, when that wouldn’t be the case. The years Claire took to growing up, could have spelled out why Kitty was left to collect dust in the first place. The potential here was Claire could have had an internal struggle with comments coming from her mother, her father, her friends, or maybe even a boyfriend. Either way I wanted to see more slice of life stuff, but ended up being denied from it to keep Kitty’s side solidified for the reader. This alone could have easily tripled the content of this story. In my opinion, this is the biggest flaw of this story. It’s barely even a flaw in itself to even mention this, as the story still works just fine without these properties.
-Description
Alright let’s be honest here. I disagreed with some of your descriptions as it just seemed odd or over the top. It would bring out the wrong idea. Like the intro pertaining to having a universe pop out all at once. As something comes into existence. With three words beginning the story, leaving the world in thought, to be barren, wasteland like, or a deep void. It’s a bit much for a toy. The word usage such as “plane” and the way you use “light” seem to refer to almost a space like feeling, giving us the impression of a wormhole or a rift of some sorts. I understand it would feel that way for Kitty, but it is highly dramatizing for something so simple. You could take a mess of words and make an epic scene out of an old man trying to chew his food. He’s still just trying to chew his food. No amount of words I use will make it any different. Though it was very touching it was drawn out to where you could understand how their bond starts between Claire and Kitty. It was just less effective since I was expecting something totally different and epic. Even the way smell was used at the start shows that it’s probably going to be used later in the story or that this thing being described is an actual being. Not only was smell barely used for content, the fact that it’s a human characteristic meant it should have been alive. But from what we get is that Kitty only comes alive through the imagination of person interacting with him. Thus him being able to smell before he can come alive just threw me for a loop. The author does excellent in all other aspects having this pseudo relationship work out. But the smell part didn’t seem to mix in well.
POSITIVES
-Interpretation
Whew! I’m excited for this part. I have so much to say for this story. The main viewpoint we read in this wonderful tale is from Kitty’s eyes and mind. Being a toy leaves for knowing next to nothing in regards for being a non sentient character. It’s beautiful how it’s translated into a live character through the imagination of Claire’s mind. From the world popping into color before Kitty, to being able to see exactly how playtime with her would be like from the eyes of a toy. With Kitty playing as a character in one of many worlds created by Claire. From space battles to monster fighting and even playing house with Dad and Mom, whom we never see btw in the story as both are just mentioned only at the start of the story and once more in between. Kitty was on a switch constantly from being alive in one place to not knowing what would happen next. Which is shown through Kitty turning almost completely inanimate as Claire leaves his side. His vision starts to blur and colors fade out as pure imagination that fueled his character leaves him. Letting only light that shined upon his button like eyes be the only thing he notices, along with dust and an overview of things in which he can’t seem to understand until he is held once more. I felt my heart skip a beat as the ending just seem to come out and touch me with Kitty once more coming back to life. Though his reaction seemed again over the top. With Kitty “imaging savory images and smacking his lips” to the feeling of being alive again from having Claire introduce him to a baby boy. I can’t say much negatives to this as it is a wonderful change of pace from normal storytelling. Though I can say that this could have also been broadened a bit more. Which would have made the ending hit us a lot harder than it normally did.
-Theatrics
Never thought I’d see such an element be used to such an extent as to literally keep me connected with my love and passion for Disney movies to keep me hooked onto a story. The imaginary world Kitty was placed in seemed so real to him. You could literally play along as he mentions what he sees through the mind of his owner. From conversations with Claire to scenarios where Kitty felt like the world in Claire’s mind was his own. His heart beat in tune with Claire’s because that’s where his identity laid within. Every toy wants to be played with and loved. Or so it’s what we’re taught as children. So the author uses this fact to give Kitty more of a sympathy role in the story. Just when I thought I was going to see Kitty interact with some trashcan, he’s instead gets handed down to another owner.These realistic moments could have played such a vital part in connecting with Kitty to a child standard in which we would all understand personally. I just thought it was wasted that this wasn’t explored more. I had so much fun reading about how much “fun” Kitty and Claire’s time together was. It made me wanna find my old toy and just hug the stuffing out of it. All of awe driven moments which could have been much more powerful with more effort.
-Content
I was between myself placing this trait of the story as a negative or a positive. Since the story does well without consent on it’s very own content, I decided to place this under positives. Now don’t get me wrong the content was just amazing by itself. I have almost no advice to give in this regards. Which this entry will mostly sound negative, though it’s just friendly advice to the author. Now the only bad part of this was, that is just simply didn’t feel like enough. Bogus right? Anyways this is one of the shorter stories in the gallery and just surprised me with how genuine it felt to read it. Though several parts of the story felt like it was missing chunks. Like big entries for Kitty. The mention of Winter comes up with only a few paragraphs to explain Kitty’s experience in the season. He doesn’t even get friends to play with, in which me myself; even as a boy, got several stuff animals when I was a child. So seeing Kitty being Claire’s only stuffed toy felt like it was missing a relatable touch. There was so many things that could have been done to make this story so much more. The author decided to stick to minimal length for this story. It could have been that they ran out of gas writing this story or maybe a lack of effort, but you can kinda feel a sense of that within the words of the story. Regardless the author is very talented and the spotlight really shines here. This loving story could use more love. Some time placed in this story would have made it a star in it’s own right.
This is one of the stories I would recommend to read. It’s so touching that it’s almost poetic. I’m such a sucker for these types of stories. While it may be perplexing in some senses, it stands out doing things you’d never expect from a story. While the title does seem to fit quite well (Spectrum:meaning the infinite condition of a set of values, ranging from field of vision to even opinions about a certain topic in a neverending scale.) It does spark a cover of a close up on Kitty’s button eyes shining with the light on him, in my mind. Per the title of course, since the word is highly associated with light and shades of colors.. Though this is only me trying to understand the author in question here. It was a great read and something I’d love to tell smaller younger readers about. Or just read as a bed time story. This story was very surprising for an E rated type. Overall good work and keep it up. (I cheated and looked up the definition of Spectrum. It actually fits the topic of this story. Explaining the infinite views of a child’s imagination. That’s what she was going for.)
>>Ratlab
could be a nerf gun. It would make sense with a round foam piece able to shoot out. And with Kitty's perspective the round piece should blow up, as per Claire's imagination. Since it's, you know, a weapon. That one took me a while to figure out, but nonetheless I think I hit the nail there.
could be a nerf gun. It would make sense with a round foam piece able to shoot out. And with Kitty's perspective the round piece should blow up, as per Claire's imagination. Since it's, you know, a weapon. That one took me a while to figure out, but nonetheless I think I hit the nail there.
I don't think I have much to add that hasn't been said already. I'll simple say that I'll be biased towards any story that can make me think fondly of Calvin and Hobbes. This is an interesting take on that sort of story.
Anecdote: for no apparent reason, at the line, "Do you think there’ll be squash?", I got kinda choked up. Couldn't tell you why. Some deep well of emotional context was breached, but the message was lost in the transition to conscious thought. Perhaps a bittersweet nostalgia for the days what it was ever-so-easy to transition from one reality to the next? A yearning for the days when I didn't even need to close my eyes to repaint the world as I saw fit?
This story does an excellent job of evoking those feelings, and for that, I thank you, Writer.
Final Thought: I Should Reread My C&H Collection
Anecdote: for no apparent reason, at the line, "Do you think there’ll be squash?", I got kinda choked up. Couldn't tell you why. Some deep well of emotional context was breached, but the message was lost in the transition to conscious thought. Perhaps a bittersweet nostalgia for the days what it was ever-so-easy to transition from one reality to the next? A yearning for the days when I didn't even need to close my eyes to repaint the world as I saw fit?
This story does an excellent job of evoking those feelings, and for that, I thank you, Writer.
Final Thought: I Should Reread My C&H Collection
>>Solitair
Well, that's why it's getting that "Misaimed" from me. I can tell that there's some solid quality here, but this is really not my style. I'm still going back and forth about whether to abstain on it or not. Part of me feels like I ought to (and I'm frankly not going to feel bad if it makes the finals), but another part of me feels like it's unfair to the stories I genuinely like better and appreciate more to move them down-ballot just so I can not penalize a story I didn't like a whole lot.
It's tough. I know it sucks getting a reader/voter who's just not interested in what you were going for, and knowing that's likely to weigh down your scores. But boring me is one of the cardinal sins a story can commit in my mind, and this one definitely bored me. It's... ugh. I definitely feel bad for the author, because it seems pretty obvious he/she has got some very good skills and just got unlucky getting me as a voter.
Well, that's why it's getting that "Misaimed" from me. I can tell that there's some solid quality here, but this is really not my style. I'm still going back and forth about whether to abstain on it or not. Part of me feels like I ought to (and I'm frankly not going to feel bad if it makes the finals), but another part of me feels like it's unfair to the stories I genuinely like better and appreciate more to move them down-ballot just so I can not penalize a story I didn't like a whole lot.
It's tough. I know it sucks getting a reader/voter who's just not interested in what you were going for, and knowing that's likely to weigh down your scores. But boring me is one of the cardinal sins a story can commit in my mind, and this one definitely bored me. It's... ugh. I definitely feel bad for the author, because it seems pretty obvious he/she has got some very good skills and just got unlucky getting me as a voter.
There's a lot of "me too"ing I'm going to skip here. I do think the central premise is executed well; the biggest thing I feel this needs to address in editing is that weird birth scene thing and how hard it makes it to settle into the story.
Let's look at that in the context of the story overall. You've got a title, "Spectrum," that declares that Kitty's visual sensations (and the color/grey distinction) are a major theme of the piece. Indeed, you've got some solid description that brings that out. But it's kind of lost in the wash of imagery in general. Consider trimming that first section way back, not just to hurry your readers into the meatof your story without the confusion of the starting scene, but also because slimming that down would let you focus in on the visual sensations and really bring that core theme to the foreground. Then you could nudge the rest of your story around to refocus on that spectrum, as well, tying it together a little more coherently. (Right now, the bookendy birth-like scenes feel different in tone from the Calvin and Hobbes-esque play scenes. That's not necessarily a fault -- you might be going for contrast there -- but it didn't feel particularly satisfying.)
My overall reaction here was that this nailed its tone in the middle, and hasn't quite congealed as a cohesive whole. I don't think it'll be too hard to get it pulling all in the same direction, though.
Tier: Almost There
Let's look at that in the context of the story overall. You've got a title, "Spectrum," that declares that Kitty's visual sensations (and the color/grey distinction) are a major theme of the piece. Indeed, you've got some solid description that brings that out. But it's kind of lost in the wash of imagery in general. Consider trimming that first section way back, not just to hurry your readers into the meatof your story without the confusion of the starting scene, but also because slimming that down would let you focus in on the visual sensations and really bring that core theme to the foreground. Then you could nudge the rest of your story around to refocus on that spectrum, as well, tying it together a little more coherently. (Right now, the bookendy birth-like scenes feel different in tone from the Calvin and Hobbes-esque play scenes. That's not necessarily a fault -- you might be going for contrast there -- but it didn't feel particularly satisfying.)
My overall reaction here was that this nailed its tone in the middle, and hasn't quite congealed as a cohesive whole. I don't think it'll be too hard to get it pulling all in the same direction, though.
Tier: Almost There
A story about Kitty the Toy Puppy, and his marvelous adventures with Claire. Except it isn’t – it is actually about his adventure with her growing up, as she gradually moves on from playful things, and then, eventually, passes him on to her own son (or possibly someone else’s, I suppose).
I didn’t get the feeling of pretentiousness that Bradel got, but I do have to admit that, while the story was doing its best to be vivid, and the language was fairly momentous, it didn’t move me.
In the end, I’ve seen this story before, but it did an okay job of it and the vivid writing did a lot to push it upwards. That said, in the end, as Cold in Gardez warned, I didn’t actually end up feeling.
>>Bradel >>Solitair
I think seeing a full spectrum of responses is important. In any case, while the story didn’t bore me as it did Bradel, it did feel like something I’d read before.
I don't think they got "unlucky", really. I mean, every story has people who "miss" it.
I didn’t get the feeling of pretentiousness that Bradel got, but I do have to admit that, while the story was doing its best to be vivid, and the language was fairly momentous, it didn’t move me.
In the end, I’ve seen this story before, but it did an okay job of it and the vivid writing did a lot to push it upwards. That said, in the end, as Cold in Gardez warned, I didn’t actually end up feeling.
>>Bradel >>Solitair
I think seeing a full spectrum of responses is important. In any case, while the story didn’t bore me as it did Bradel, it did feel like something I’d read before.
I don't think they got "unlucky", really. I mean, every story has people who "miss" it.
Fifth on my list and quite good, just pushed down by some really quality works above it. Tales of sealing wax and whether pigs have wings aside, it is a nice little romp through territory where Pixar has mined hundreds of millions of dollars, and from which others will certainly mine many more. I liked it. It's one of the few stories I felt the need to read a second time. It just did not grab my heart and squeeze out the heartache I thought it had the potential to do. Perhaps it was hobbled by its length or the low grade level of the language (both of which were most likely reasonable decisions). Still, solid B+ from an adult who has set his kitty back on the shelf many years ago. Think I'll go pick it back up again.
Belated acknowledgements: Spectrum
>>Bradel >>Cold in Gardez >>Monokeras >>Ratlab >>Remedyfortheheart >>Icenrose >>horizon >>TitaniumDragon >>georg
Thanks for your thoughts/advice/critiques, everyone. It was a bit of a struggle to scrape an entry together this round--had three tests right before the prompt drop, faulty technology that threw off my homework schedule, a really inconvenient 20th birthday (which likely makes the inspiration for the story painfully obvious), yet another test the morning after the deadline, etc. Spectrum quite literally never saw the light of day--it was written in the late-night lulls between chemistry and neuropsych. Judging by some of the reactions I received, the lack of fully lucid writing time shows.
Still, like every Writeoff, this was a learning experience, and I greatly appreciate each of you taking the time to leave your comments. The raw skill and technical finesse displayed in these competitions consistently leaves me wowed. Congrats to the finalists/medalists!
>>Bradel >>Cold in Gardez >>Monokeras >>Ratlab >>Remedyfortheheart >>Icenrose >>horizon >>TitaniumDragon >>georg
Thanks for your thoughts/advice/critiques, everyone. It was a bit of a struggle to scrape an entry together this round--had three tests right before the prompt drop, faulty technology that threw off my homework schedule, a really inconvenient 20th birthday (which likely makes the inspiration for the story painfully obvious), yet another test the morning after the deadline, etc. Spectrum quite literally never saw the light of day--it was written in the late-night lulls between chemistry and neuropsych. Judging by some of the reactions I received, the lack of fully lucid writing time shows.
Still, like every Writeoff, this was a learning experience, and I greatly appreciate each of you taking the time to leave your comments. The raw skill and technical finesse displayed in these competitions consistently leaves me wowed. Congrats to the finalists/medalists!