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Midnight Twelve
Midnight twelve and all had gone to shit. Gritting my teeth I tried to drag myself to the couch. Only two feet away... might as well be a thousand. If I hadn't spent the first five minutes panicking maybe I would have been able to reach it. Maybe I would have been able to die comfortably.
"Fuck it," I whispered. The floor would do. It's not like I would have to wait long.
Behind me, six more bodies lied dead or dying, all arranged around the clock like fallen petals. Carmel's skeleton was still leaning against the large wooden case, the golden key in his hand. Of course he'd be the first to go, leaving me behind like he always did. God, why are all the cute ones such messed-up fucks? And why was I so stupid? Still recovering from the last two times he broke my heart, and I still followed him in this idiotic scheme.
"I hope you're happy, Carm!" My shout ended-up a little more than a gurgle. "You have your proof now!"
Catch an Hour. He seriously thought he could catch an Hour. Which dark auction did he go to find those damned books? The moment he showed me, I knew they weren't the casual occult shit we were used to. Those things were as hardcore as they came. I should have said no back then. I shouldn't have let him tempt me.
"Time heals all wounds, eh?" It was getting difficult to breathe, but I still wanted to say it. If not for him, then for myself. "Well, you're healed now! Happy?"
Twenty four creatures governing time. Twenty four, and he thought we could catch one? So what if he hired professional demon-snatchers? Did they do any good? All five of them are lying five feet away, their wounds growing by the second. Another twenty ticks of the clock and they'll be dead. If I'm lucky I'll be dead along with them.
Tic Toc Tic Toc
I looked at the clock, but the sounds were coming from elsewhere. It was the noise the creature made as it walked. Twelve minutes ago I was terrified. Now, I didn't care.
Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic
It stood above me, its body a series of lines held together by white sand. Somehow, I always pictured an Hour being an automaton made of dials and gears. It wasn't. When it first appeared it didn't even have a human shape, just lines and sand.
"Kill me," I whispered, begging, pleading, hoping it would. I didn't want more time to think of regrets. I didn't want to keep aging a month every second. Twelve minutes ago I was twenty-three, full of life and stupidity. Now I was eighty. "Just kill me!" My vision was blurry. The room was a mass of grey shapes coming in and out of focus. "Just..."
It struck. I felt a shard of ice pierce through me. Finally! I could smile if I wasn't so weak. Dead at twenty-three of old age in pursuit of time. There probably was an irony in that somewhere. Someone might even find it funny, if it wasn't so terrifying. An entire life erased in twelve minutes. Carmel would have loved that trick. Erase anything or stretch it into eternity — this was the power the Hours had, this was the power we wanted to steal. Well, fuck us! Only thing we got was the privilege to die no more.
Endless specks of sand. They were everywhere, swirling around, reaching for infinity in all directions. And in the middle stood I, a single line of time among a legion of others. I could sense all those who had come before me, I knew they could sense me as well. Hundreds, thousands of lines, each a fool who thought they could tame an Hour. Now we were all parts, servants of our master, our jailer. No, I was more than that, I was Twelve now. Midnight had made me one of his lieutenants. I could see past and present, I could make seconds into centuries and centuries into seconds, I could inflict wounds that would grow with every tick of the clock or heal wounds, if I so wished. I was immortal, eternal, incapable of pain or hurt, left with the single hope that maybe some other fool would succeed where I had failed… and free us all.
"Fuck it," I whispered. The floor would do. It's not like I would have to wait long.
Behind me, six more bodies lied dead or dying, all arranged around the clock like fallen petals. Carmel's skeleton was still leaning against the large wooden case, the golden key in his hand. Of course he'd be the first to go, leaving me behind like he always did. God, why are all the cute ones such messed-up fucks? And why was I so stupid? Still recovering from the last two times he broke my heart, and I still followed him in this idiotic scheme.
"I hope you're happy, Carm!" My shout ended-up a little more than a gurgle. "You have your proof now!"
Catch an Hour. He seriously thought he could catch an Hour. Which dark auction did he go to find those damned books? The moment he showed me, I knew they weren't the casual occult shit we were used to. Those things were as hardcore as they came. I should have said no back then. I shouldn't have let him tempt me.
"Time heals all wounds, eh?" It was getting difficult to breathe, but I still wanted to say it. If not for him, then for myself. "Well, you're healed now! Happy?"
Twenty four creatures governing time. Twenty four, and he thought we could catch one? So what if he hired professional demon-snatchers? Did they do any good? All five of them are lying five feet away, their wounds growing by the second. Another twenty ticks of the clock and they'll be dead. If I'm lucky I'll be dead along with them.
Tic Toc Tic Toc
I looked at the clock, but the sounds were coming from elsewhere. It was the noise the creature made as it walked. Twelve minutes ago I was terrified. Now, I didn't care.
Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic
It stood above me, its body a series of lines held together by white sand. Somehow, I always pictured an Hour being an automaton made of dials and gears. It wasn't. When it first appeared it didn't even have a human shape, just lines and sand.
"Kill me," I whispered, begging, pleading, hoping it would. I didn't want more time to think of regrets. I didn't want to keep aging a month every second. Twelve minutes ago I was twenty-three, full of life and stupidity. Now I was eighty. "Just kill me!" My vision was blurry. The room was a mass of grey shapes coming in and out of focus. "Just..."
It struck. I felt a shard of ice pierce through me. Finally! I could smile if I wasn't so weak. Dead at twenty-three of old age in pursuit of time. There probably was an irony in that somewhere. Someone might even find it funny, if it wasn't so terrifying. An entire life erased in twelve minutes. Carmel would have loved that trick. Erase anything or stretch it into eternity — this was the power the Hours had, this was the power we wanted to steal. Well, fuck us! Only thing we got was the privilege to die no more.
Endless specks of sand. They were everywhere, swirling around, reaching for infinity in all directions. And in the middle stood I, a single line of time among a legion of others. I could sense all those who had come before me, I knew they could sense me as well. Hundreds, thousands of lines, each a fool who thought they could tame an Hour. Now we were all parts, servants of our master, our jailer. No, I was more than that, I was Twelve now. Midnight had made me one of his lieutenants. I could see past and present, I could make seconds into centuries and centuries into seconds, I could inflict wounds that would grow with every tick of the clock or heal wounds, if I so wished. I was immortal, eternal, incapable of pain or hurt, left with the single hope that maybe some other fool would succeed where I had failed… and free us all.
You've got an intruiging world here, author, but I'm not sure 750 words is really enough room to do it justice. These minific rounds are incredibly constrained; the wordcount and time limit is barely enough to sketch the briefest of stories, and so what scene-building you can do is really limited to familiar ideas that don't need a lot of words to explain. For this - with its Hours, and demon-hunters, and time magic and alternate dimensions and this guy Midnight who apparently commands an army of chronological minions desperate to be freed from their bonds - you really need the freedom of the 8,000-word short story rounds to let it thrive.
The scene itself was pretty cool. I felt it could have ended better at the point where he died - your last paragraph is a surge of exposition which, as I said, hasn't the room it needs to really get its concepts across, but the main scene, even if there's a lot we don't know about, was still a good piece of drama. Slicing that last bit would strengthen the previous scene and give you the extra wordcount space to reinforce it even more.
Spelling's good, grammar's solid bar a couple minor bits ('lied' should be 'lay'; 'ended-up' doesn't need a hyphen, 'Twenty four' does). Watch out for changing tenses; mostly you're in past tense, but you sometimes shift to present.
TLDR: I read a book by a Hollywood director once where he talked about his job rejecting or accepting scripts sent in by wannabe movie-writers. He recalls how he rejected thousands of scripts that were perfectly constructed but just boring, because there's nothing you can do about a boring idea. He never once threw out something with construction problems that was interesting, though, because they can always be made to shine.
Your problem here is a construction problem: the wordcount is too small for your idea. This is intruiging, and given free reign with a bigger wordcount, this could really blossom.
(Also: I was totes expecting a gears-and-clockwork creature too, narrator)
The scene itself was pretty cool. I felt it could have ended better at the point where he died - your last paragraph is a surge of exposition which, as I said, hasn't the room it needs to really get its concepts across, but the main scene, even if there's a lot we don't know about, was still a good piece of drama. Slicing that last bit would strengthen the previous scene and give you the extra wordcount space to reinforce it even more.
Spelling's good, grammar's solid bar a couple minor bits ('lied' should be 'lay'; 'ended-up' doesn't need a hyphen, 'Twenty four' does). Watch out for changing tenses; mostly you're in past tense, but you sometimes shift to present.
TLDR: I read a book by a Hollywood director once where he talked about his job rejecting or accepting scripts sent in by wannabe movie-writers. He recalls how he rejected thousands of scripts that were perfectly constructed but just boring, because there's nothing you can do about a boring idea. He never once threw out something with construction problems that was interesting, though, because they can always be made to shine.
Your problem here is a construction problem: the wordcount is too small for your idea. This is intruiging, and given free reign with a bigger wordcount, this could really blossom.
(Also: I was totes expecting a gears-and-clockwork creature too, narrator)
Mmm... I'm trying to locate some sort of 'arc' or struggle in this story, and I'm having a bit of a tough time.
In principal, I like the way you're trying to slipstream stuff into the narrative, the sort of retroactive reveal you have going here, but I'm not actually sure it adds much to the story besides confusion. It feels like... dab of interesting plot thing, aside about random description, dab of interesting plot thing, random aside...
Also, I think you could cut that whole first paragraph and it wouldn't change the story at all.
I guess the 'arc' is a straight descent into misery? I dunno. The character knows they'll die in the beginning, and at the end, they do. The backstory/description doesn't change that, it simply shows how it happened. I don't feel much from that, possibly because I'm having a hard time caring about your character actually dying, since it was already confirmed. More words might fix that, by giving me more reasons to care about the character and actually feel the tragedy, or perhaps a re-focus of the story in order to introduce some actual struggle.
In principal, I like the way you're trying to slipstream stuff into the narrative, the sort of retroactive reveal you have going here, but I'm not actually sure it adds much to the story besides confusion. It feels like... dab of interesting plot thing, aside about random description, dab of interesting plot thing, random aside...
Also, I think you could cut that whole first paragraph and it wouldn't change the story at all.
I guess the 'arc' is a straight descent into misery? I dunno. The character knows they'll die in the beginning, and at the end, they do. The backstory/description doesn't change that, it simply shows how it happened. I don't feel much from that, possibly because I'm having a hard time caring about your character actually dying, since it was already confirmed. More words might fix that, by giving me more reasons to care about the character and actually feel the tragedy, or perhaps a re-focus of the story in order to introduce some actual struggle.
I second everything >>MonarchDodora said.
That final section needs a lot more than 150 words. This probably is a short-story-contest length idea. The 600 words of the first section were enjoyable, and seem comfortably paced, and give the narrator enough breathing room to inject some strong personality. This has a lot of potential once it's expanded, but as the text stands it doesn't quite capitalize on that.
What dragged this down against, say, Ringer (for which I had most of the same needs-more-space assessment) was the extreme compression of the second scene, but also a lot of small stuff. Nitpick: The almost-prompt-drop broke me out of my reading, though that might not be a problem outside the contest context. Another nitpick: "Dead of old age" after being stabbed through the chest? Another: "begging, pleading, hoping it would" unnecessarily redundant. Slightly less nitpicky: I've never heard "midnight twelve" as a phrase for timekeeping before, which is disorienting right at the start when you need to hook readers, and it kind of reads as a name to me except that the second scene labels the Hour as simply "Midnight", and it doesn't work as a name in the first sentence since you're using it as a time descriptor.
Tier: Almost There
That final section needs a lot more than 150 words. This probably is a short-story-contest length idea. The 600 words of the first section were enjoyable, and seem comfortably paced, and give the narrator enough breathing room to inject some strong personality. This has a lot of potential once it's expanded, but as the text stands it doesn't quite capitalize on that.
What dragged this down against, say, Ringer (for which I had most of the same needs-more-space assessment) was the extreme compression of the second scene, but also a lot of small stuff. Nitpick: The almost-prompt-drop broke me out of my reading, though that might not be a problem outside the contest context. Another nitpick: "Dead of old age" after being stabbed through the chest? Another: "begging, pleading, hoping it would" unnecessarily redundant. Slightly less nitpicky: I've never heard "midnight twelve" as a phrase for timekeeping before, which is disorienting right at the start when you need to hook readers, and it kind of reads as a name to me except that the second scene labels the Hour as simply "Midnight", and it doesn't work as a name in the first sentence since you're using it as a time descriptor.
Tier: Almost There
I could make seconds into centuries and centuries into seconds
But you can't make a several thousand word story into a 750 word minific.
Well, not quite. I think you actually did a pretty good job of cutting a much larger story down to the bare minimum. But of course I would rather have read the longer version.
And why did you name the guy "Carmel"? Is this secretly a ponyfic, or do people around here just like to give their characters weird names for some reason?
Anyway, this story is great and I love it.
This one was a bit bizzare. It was charming and I mostly enjoyed it, but it didn't feel complete.
I mean, it had a start and an end, but I think I agree with >>horizon on the pacing. The first 600 words are comfortably paced. The end feels rushed, and like I'm not given enough time to digest what's happening. It might not be an issue of length, just disproportionality--if you'd made the first part 450 and the second part 300, maybe it would've been paced better. Could be better longer, though. I dunno.
Do I understand how this time-world works? Not really. Am I interested? Yes. The voice of the narrator was engaging enough and the language was interesting enough (though with a few grammar errors and some melodramatic-ish exaggerations; [Only two feet away... might as well be a thousand.], for example). I cared about the main character and could follow what was going on, up until the end.
I mean, it had a start and an end, but I think I agree with >>horizon on the pacing. The first 600 words are comfortably paced. The end feels rushed, and like I'm not given enough time to digest what's happening. It might not be an issue of length, just disproportionality--if you'd made the first part 450 and the second part 300, maybe it would've been paced better. Could be better longer, though. I dunno.
Do I understand how this time-world works? Not really. Am I interested? Yes. The voice of the narrator was engaging enough and the language was interesting enough (though with a few grammar errors and some melodramatic-ish exaggerations; [Only two feet away... might as well be a thousand.], for example). I cared about the main character and could follow what was going on, up until the end.
*skips over other reviews*
Hmmmmm. Not quite sure what to make of this.. the idea of each hour of the day being a living, magical being in interesting... And the negative consequences of trying to catch one are more than reasonable...
But the very end is puzzling... If you die trying to catch an hour, you end up in some bizarre afterlife... serving as a soldier in it's army? Fighting what exactly? And if someone else manages to capture an hour.. How does that lead to freeing all of them?
The beginning was strange, but interesting. The end was mostly strange and puzzlling I'm afraid.
Hmmmmm. Not quite sure what to make of this.. the idea of each hour of the day being a living, magical being in interesting... And the negative consequences of trying to catch one are more than reasonable...
But the very end is puzzling... If you die trying to catch an hour, you end up in some bizarre afterlife... serving as a soldier in it's army? Fighting what exactly? And if someone else manages to capture an hour.. How does that lead to freeing all of them?
The beginning was strange, but interesting. The end was mostly strange and puzzlling I'm afraid.
>>MonarchDodora
>>Not_A_Hat
>>horizon
>>The_Letter_J
>>FrontSevens
>>TheCyanRecluse
Thanks for the great reviews, all. :)
I'll try to keep things less confusing next time. :) That last section sounded much better in my mind...
(Carmel in this instance is short for Carmichael :))
>>Not_A_Hat
>>horizon
>>The_Letter_J
>>FrontSevens
>>TheCyanRecluse
Thanks for the great reviews, all. :)
I'll try to keep things less confusing next time. :) That last section sounded much better in my mind...
(Carmel in this instance is short for Carmichael :))