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Once Upon a Time
James crouched in the shadow of a wild rose bush. Thorns snagged his clothes and drew red lines on his skin, but he held his breath.
A wasp the size of his fist danced just inches away, bobbing like a boxer around a rose bloom. It alighted on the flower, dragging down the whole vine with its weight.
James waited, motionless. Beside him, his brother William’s fist tightened on a rock.
“Not yet, Billy,” he whispered.
William twitched, and the wasp’s antennae flicked. For a long moment all three sat like stones, until an errant breeze set the roses to swaying. The wasp took flight, shaking their teeth with the thrum of its wings, and vanished.
James exhaled. “Okay, let’s go.”
Hours later they found the nest. It was monstrous, a mass of paper and wax and bones growing like cancer in a tree high overhead. The thunder of a million wings shook the trees.
“Now?” his brother asked.
“Yeah.” James licked his lips. “On three. Ready?”
William grinned and cocked his arm back. “Yeah. One, two…”
“Three!” they shouted. Their arms snapped forward, sending the tiny missiles into the nest. The stones punched through the waxy paper with ease, and for a moment all was silent.
Then the nest shook. Out boiled an army, an endless wave of black needles. They filled the sky, darkened the sun, and fell upon the boys.
“Run!” James shouted, but William was already moving. They darted through the forest, staying just ahead of the wasps. One, faster than the mass, caught up, and James felt an icy sting in his leg. Fire raced up his nerves, filling his brain, and he fell with a scream.
“Jimmy!” William was at his side. He swatted the wasp away and hauled James up. “Come on, we’re almost at the stream!”
Together they stumbled toward the water and safety.
“Can you see them?” William whispered. He huddled behind a tree beside his brother at the forest’s edge.
“Yeah. Five, maybe six.” James squinted at the ridge. The goblin patrol had been there for hours. “We’ll have to run for it.”
“Sure, sure.” William tightened the messenger satchel across his back. “Same time?”
James nodded. “Right behind you.”
William waited a heartbeat and darted out of the trees. The ravine was only a hundred yards across. Arrows from the goblin patrol thudded into the ground around them, and William stumbled. Before James could reach him, he was up, and they raced the rest of the way across the open ground to safety.
They panted, spent. “You okay?”
William grinned and pulled off the satchel. A goblin’s black arrow was sunk in it halfway to the fletchings.
“I’ll live.”
The battle had been going for hours. The sorcerer’s forces were depleted, on the verge of defeat. James and William rallied together near the front, ready to drive the final yards to victory. For the first time in days, James smiled at his brother and—
“Dragon!” someone shouted. James turned to see the huge shape lift over the horizon. It sailed over them, searing them with its stench. The great maw opened, and a sickly fire spilled out.
“Gas gas gas!” James struggled with his mask. He got it over his face just as the flames reached him. A few feet away, William screamed. His mask, still tangled in its straps, fell to the mud.
Private James Owen trudged through the mud, one step at a time. The wasteland extended far away on all sides. Torn razor-wire grew like brambles, tugging at his boots.
All the world – the sky, the mud, his torn hands, his blood – was green through the glass panes of his gas mask. Wisps of the mustard fog burned his eyes. His skin wept where it touched.
“Just a few more feet,” he mumbled to the weight on his back. Billy hadn’t moved in hours. Bloody froth seeped out from the edges of his mask. Tiny blisters covered his neck, and James knew they hid inside his lungs as well. He was drowning.
Bullets crackled around them like wasps. Overhead, outstripped five-nines howled and fell to the earth like arrows.
The friendly lines were there. He could see them, just. Past another quarter-mile of hell. His leg ached where the German 7.92 had torn a hole months ago.
He shifted Billy’s weight. One foot, then the other.
“Billy, stay with me. Listen,” he whispered. “Once upon a time, there were two brothers…”
A wasp the size of his fist danced just inches away, bobbing like a boxer around a rose bloom. It alighted on the flower, dragging down the whole vine with its weight.
James waited, motionless. Beside him, his brother William’s fist tightened on a rock.
“Not yet, Billy,” he whispered.
William twitched, and the wasp’s antennae flicked. For a long moment all three sat like stones, until an errant breeze set the roses to swaying. The wasp took flight, shaking their teeth with the thrum of its wings, and vanished.
James exhaled. “Okay, let’s go.”
Hours later they found the nest. It was monstrous, a mass of paper and wax and bones growing like cancer in a tree high overhead. The thunder of a million wings shook the trees.
“Now?” his brother asked.
“Yeah.” James licked his lips. “On three. Ready?”
William grinned and cocked his arm back. “Yeah. One, two…”
“Three!” they shouted. Their arms snapped forward, sending the tiny missiles into the nest. The stones punched through the waxy paper with ease, and for a moment all was silent.
Then the nest shook. Out boiled an army, an endless wave of black needles. They filled the sky, darkened the sun, and fell upon the boys.
“Run!” James shouted, but William was already moving. They darted through the forest, staying just ahead of the wasps. One, faster than the mass, caught up, and James felt an icy sting in his leg. Fire raced up his nerves, filling his brain, and he fell with a scream.
“Jimmy!” William was at his side. He swatted the wasp away and hauled James up. “Come on, we’re almost at the stream!”
Together they stumbled toward the water and safety.
“Can you see them?” William whispered. He huddled behind a tree beside his brother at the forest’s edge.
“Yeah. Five, maybe six.” James squinted at the ridge. The goblin patrol had been there for hours. “We’ll have to run for it.”
“Sure, sure.” William tightened the messenger satchel across his back. “Same time?”
James nodded. “Right behind you.”
William waited a heartbeat and darted out of the trees. The ravine was only a hundred yards across. Arrows from the goblin patrol thudded into the ground around them, and William stumbled. Before James could reach him, he was up, and they raced the rest of the way across the open ground to safety.
They panted, spent. “You okay?”
William grinned and pulled off the satchel. A goblin’s black arrow was sunk in it halfway to the fletchings.
“I’ll live.”
The battle had been going for hours. The sorcerer’s forces were depleted, on the verge of defeat. James and William rallied together near the front, ready to drive the final yards to victory. For the first time in days, James smiled at his brother and—
“Dragon!” someone shouted. James turned to see the huge shape lift over the horizon. It sailed over them, searing them with its stench. The great maw opened, and a sickly fire spilled out.
“Gas gas gas!” James struggled with his mask. He got it over his face just as the flames reached him. A few feet away, William screamed. His mask, still tangled in its straps, fell to the mud.
Private James Owen trudged through the mud, one step at a time. The wasteland extended far away on all sides. Torn razor-wire grew like brambles, tugging at his boots.
All the world – the sky, the mud, his torn hands, his blood – was green through the glass panes of his gas mask. Wisps of the mustard fog burned his eyes. His skin wept where it touched.
“Just a few more feet,” he mumbled to the weight on his back. Billy hadn’t moved in hours. Bloody froth seeped out from the edges of his mask. Tiny blisters covered his neck, and James knew they hid inside his lungs as well. He was drowning.
Bullets crackled around them like wasps. Overhead, outstripped five-nines howled and fell to the earth like arrows.
The friendly lines were there. He could see them, just. Past another quarter-mile of hell. His leg ached where the German 7.92 had torn a hole months ago.
He shifted Billy’s weight. One foot, then the other.
“Billy, stay with me. Listen,” he whispered. “Once upon a time, there were two brothers…”
I'm torn about this. I like that the implication is that the whole story is a retelling, through several different timelines/perspectives/viewpoints of what's actually happening. And I really like that it focuses on the two brothers. It focuses on them working together on the course of their lifetimes, and now that Billy's hit, James tells the story. In some ways it makes the story cyclical, and encourages re-reads. That's good.
However, I feel like it wasn't effective as it could have been. I liked the call backs to the other symbolism used in the story, but in some places it just felt like a chore to read through. I wasn't really invested in the story. Perhaps it's a sign that it just wasn't for me, but I couldn't get into it.
Certainly not bad. It's well written. Very well written. It just felt on the dry side.
However, I feel like it wasn't effective as it could have been. I liked the call backs to the other symbolism used in the story, but in some places it just felt like a chore to read through. I wasn't really invested in the story. Perhaps it's a sign that it just wasn't for me, but I couldn't get into it.
Certainly not bad. It's well written. Very well written. It just felt on the dry side.
I was confused while reading this, and the ending did not completely satisfy that confusion. The way the last two sections are blended together doesn't fit the idea that the initial narratives were stories being told to Billy after the gas attack. It also makes little sense that one of the stories he'd tell would be about a gas attack he failed to get his mask on in time considering that was the horror he'd just endured.
My best guess is that the end of the story begins it, and you didn't include a section break before that point in order to bring things around full-circle. But it needs to be clearer.
Some minor points on the initial vignette:
The phrase "inches away" isn't clear: inches from James face? From his fist, to which it was being compared? From the flower?
The phrase "bobbing like a boxer around a rose bloom" unfortunately comes off as a dangling participle; boxers don't bob around rose blooms.
I've never heard of "shaking teeth" before. You might have meant "chattering", but that makes no sense in context.
Wasps don't come in fist-sized varieties (hornets almost do), and it's not immediately clear that the first story lies in a fantasy setting. I think it would help if there were more exaggeration up front. I don't think non-solitary wasps feed on nectar, certainly not large ones. The bones making up the nest are ominous, and I'm left feeling like there's more context I need in order to understand what this vignette is about. Why were they doing it? Were they just doing it for the thrill? It really isn't clear until the end of the story, so I think putting some motivation in for the characters would help the flow.
My best guess is that the end of the story begins it, and you didn't include a section break before that point in order to bring things around full-circle. But it needs to be clearer.
Some minor points on the initial vignette:
The phrase "inches away" isn't clear: inches from James face? From his fist, to which it was being compared? From the flower?
The phrase "bobbing like a boxer around a rose bloom" unfortunately comes off as a dangling participle; boxers don't bob around rose blooms.
I've never heard of "shaking teeth" before. You might have meant "chattering", but that makes no sense in context.
Wasps don't come in fist-sized varieties (hornets almost do), and it's not immediately clear that the first story lies in a fantasy setting. I think it would help if there were more exaggeration up front. I don't think non-solitary wasps feed on nectar, certainly not large ones. The bones making up the nest are ominous, and I'm left feeling like there's more context I need in order to understand what this vignette is about. Why were they doing it? Were they just doing it for the thrill? It really isn't clear until the end of the story, so I think putting some motivation in for the characters would help the flow.
>>Trick_Question
Up to the confusing end, I did enjoy it, though. The progression from kids to teenagers and finally adults was nice.
I don't think non-solitary wasps feed on nectarThis. I don't have a problem with the fist-sized wasps, I got that this is in a fantasy setting (though it might still be a good idea to introduce that more obviously in the first scene), but if you want me to suspend my belief over their size it helps to make them like real wasps in other respects.
The way the last two sections are blended together doesn't fit the idea that the initial narratives were stories being told to Billy after the gas attack.This also confuses me. First I thought that they are really in a battle against the dragon and that it was a historical fantasy setting, WW1 with magic. Then I thought, okay, everything before the soft break is in Billy's delirious mind. But that's obviously not it since it's James's POV. I don't really get the impression from the story that it's the one James is about to tell him in the end, either. So I don't know what to say about this other than that it's not quite clear to me what actually happens.
Up to the confusing end, I did enjoy it, though. The progression from kids to teenagers and finally adults was nice.
I don't have much to add to what has been said before. The first two vignettes could be what the wounded guy dreams about while unconscious. Maybe. Or these are three different levels of an adventure game, and the PoV is one virtual character. I don't know.
In any case, ending on a cliffhanger wasn't the best idea I think. Unless you plan to write a sequel. But, as it is right now, the end is rather unsatisfactory. Have the guy killed or have him reach the lip of a friendly trench, but don't leave him in the middle of a no man's land.
In any case, ending on a cliffhanger wasn't the best idea I think. Unless you plan to write a sequel. But, as it is right now, the end is rather unsatisfactory. Have the guy killed or have him reach the lip of a friendly trench, but don't leave him in the middle of a no man's land.
I liked the layers of different genres used to tell the story, I think it decouples the experience of the characters from a very specific point in history and give it a certain timeless quality.
It has still some problems. The descriptions need an a bit of an edit to make them more consistent, and the third scene feels underdeveloped respectively to the rest of the story.
A bit more clarity if we are hearing a story being told or if we are living through the delirious memories of one of the brothers shaped by the words of the other would be nice. It doesn't need to be really explicit, a hint in direction of one of this possibilities (or one that points at a third one I haven't considered) would do a lot to improve the story in my opinion.
Still, I liked it and rated it relatively high on my slate.
It has still some problems. The descriptions need an a bit of an edit to make them more consistent, and the third scene feels underdeveloped respectively to the rest of the story.
A bit more clarity if we are hearing a story being told or if we are living through the delirious memories of one of the brothers shaped by the words of the other would be nice. It doesn't need to be really explicit, a hint in direction of one of this possibilities (or one that points at a third one I haven't considered) would do a lot to improve the story in my opinion.
Still, I liked it and rated it relatively high on my slate.
I was happy to get a fantasy story to read, and then you had to go and ruin it like this.
Actually, jokes aside, I really liked this story. The transition between the last two scenes was a bit confusing because you were basically switching genres and I assumed you were just combining them. But it all made sense by the time I got to the end.
I liked this story enough that I don't really have much to say about it. Perhaps the best thing I can say about it is that for me, it stands out from all the other war stories in the competition.
Actually, jokes aside, I really liked this story. The transition between the last two scenes was a bit confusing because you were basically switching genres and I assumed you were just combining them. But it all made sense by the time I got to the end.
I liked this story enough that I don't really have much to say about it. Perhaps the best thing I can say about it is that for me, it stands out from all the other war stories in the competition.
What >>Leo said about the POV switch: this needs some editing on that bridge showing how the fantasy and mundane worlds connect. You may also want to aggressively reread with an eye toward which role each brother plays in each scene — it looks like you're going for a sort of initial older-brother role for William and having James grow scene by scene into being the one who is finally able to carry him, but James is also leading the wasp mission and keeps William from throwing the rock prematurely, which disrupts the arc of his growth by starting him out as fully responsible.
That said, this is probably the first story I've read this round that feels like it was firing on all cylinders. I don't know if any of that is carryover effect from me having recently played Brothers: A Tale Of Two Sons, which did this same storyline pretty devastatingly, but regardless, this makes good use of minific space, knows where it wants to go, and spends its words right.
Tier: Top Contender
That said, this is probably the first story I've read this round that feels like it was firing on all cylinders. I don't know if any of that is carryover effect from me having recently played Brothers: A Tale Of Two Sons, which did this same storyline pretty devastatingly, but regardless, this makes good use of minific space, knows where it wants to go, and spends its words right.
Tier: Top Contender
Once Upon a Time - B+ -- Extremely good example of escapist literature. What I got out of it was two brothers in WWI who have constructed a fantasy world to keep the horrors of the real world at arm's length, only to have reality strike one of them down. The wasps, the goblins, they all are some aspect of reality where they are fighting real soldiers with grenades instead of throwing rocks, and bullets instead of wasp stings. The hard part of writing something like this is that you are describing *two* worlds and the interactions between them, which can blow away your word count before you even get a good start.
I don’t know that the final twist of this story really added a whole lot to the story. It seemed like it was just repeating the idea of one of them getting hurt and the other getting away because they were faster over and over, but there was no real consistent pattern to it, and I’m not really sure why. The final twist didn’t really feel like it added anything to the story either. The original seeming progression of kids to teenagers to heroes seemed to work better than the twist did.