“If I am going to die, I’ll die like the flare of a dying star. Bright, beautiful, blinding, explosive, and loud. It’ll be a death immortalized in an instantaneous moment of eternal beauty,” my brother once declared to me, with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin. He punctuated that point of his to me by snapping his fingertips right in front of my eyes, making a loud cracking noise that startled me slightly. “That’s how a man should live and die. That’s how I will live and die. My end shall never be on my deathbed.”
“You are not going to die,” I declared in response, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Or mom will ground you forever in your room.”
My brother let out an amused chuckle right then, tousling my hair despite my protest. He grinned again and said, “Mom won’t have a chance to do that.”
“Want to bet?” I asked, grinning in reply.
***
I was too young then to understand what the word ‘die’ really meant. Now, I wished I had never known.
My brother died in the war, in service to his country. It was an honorable death. It was also a death that my brother had once said he preferred.
It was bright from the flames of war, scarring the lands on which it burned. It was loud from the sounds of gunfire penetrating flesh and missiles bombarding ground, erasing both lives and homes from existence. It was blinding from the wanton destruction such a war caused, causing grief without equal to both sides. It was explosive from the sounds of landmines being triggered, at best killing its victims, at worse disabling them for a lifetime. And it was loud from the wails of the millions, suffering needlessly just to satisfy the pride and ego of a few.
It was by all accounts heard and told, an honorable death, especially since it was a life paid in service to the pride of a country. It was told to us in a ceremony by our country’s top leaders, strutting around in their uniforms, emblazoned by countless medals and countless badges of accomplishments. It was a ceremony honoring the deceased by stating their achievements, and awarding plaques of it to the deceased’s families. It was a ceremony done to placate us.
They never found my brother’s body. He would never be given a proper burial. We would never see him a final time. I would never have a chance to say a final goodbye.
It was all hollow and empty inside really.
***
“So, why did you join the army anyway?” asked my companion of me, squatting down beside me with a weary smile, and offered me a smoke from his cigarette. “Here.”
I accepted his offer without a word, nodded my head in thanks and took a puff of smoke from it. The exhaled smoke formed shapeless wisps in the dull morning light, adding meaningless patterns to an otherwise bleary dawn. For a moment, I fancied seeing the face of my brother again, ethereal and smiling in acknowledgment at me.
“A dream,” I replied, passing back the cigarette to him. “It was a desire to experience the path my brother took.”
“Oh?” he asked with interest, taking what was his back. “Your brother was in the military?”
“Yes,” I concurred, smiling slightly. “He was.”
“Well, it is a good thing then,” he replied, crowing a little. “Being in the military teaches a man discipline and the meaning of sacrifice.”
“Have you ever considered the notion of death on the battlefield?” I asked, cocking my head in his direction somewhat. “Ever consider the loss in which your family will experience with your passing?”
His face softened then, and I could see something akin to pride flashing across his face. He patted me on the shoulder solemnly.
“It’s true that I am the only child of my mother. However, she is proud of me,” he said, his eyes scanning the rapidly brightening horizon. “My father was in the military and he died in service for his country. He was honored for his sacrifice. My mom is proud of him, as she is of me. I joined the army with her blessings.”
He laughed loudly and clearly then; the weary lines around his eyes disappeared, even though it was only for a few seconds. He then turned around to me and offered me his cigarette again. “Come, today is a long day.”
I smiled faintly and accepted his offer once more. It was a friendship made.
***
It was a friendship that lasted only for a single day. My newfound friend died the next day from a bullet puncturing his skull. It was fired from a tearful desperate girl, wielding her father’s gun to try and protect her wounded father. Both of them were killed on the spot in retaliation by my furious squadron’s captain.
I heard his mother did not attend her own son’s funeral. It was tragic indeed when a child should pass away from the world before a parent did.
***
“You are leaving?” asked my bunkmate, his mouth agape slightly in surprise and the book he was reading held loosely in his hand by his fingertips. “Why?”
“Personal reasons mostly,” I replied, the ghost of a smile playing on my lips. “I wish to see my family again. But mainly, I wish to try other things.”
“Try other things? Like what?” he asked of me, setting his book carefully on his lap. “You have never brought this issue up before.”
For a moment, there was a distant look in my eyes as I contemplated the future before me.
“Are you okay?” he asked me cautiously, his eyes scrutinizing my face in hesitation. “You were blanking out there.”
“I might take up writing for a living,” I replied, smiling brilliantly. “Or maybe even take up fishing. I heard fishing is the new craze nowadays among the young.”
“Is it?” he asked again, clearly not comprehending my words at all. “I don’t know that. I mean, my granddad was into fishing, but I don’t know it’s any sort of craze.”
“Oh, trust me,” I responded cryptically. “I know it.”
“I guess this means goodbye then,” he said finally, slightly crestfallen. “I will see you around somewhere after this war is over.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” I promised, then continued on determinedly. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?” he said, nodding his head in assent. “I’ll answer if I can.”
“How should a man live his life?”
***
My brother taught me that such a death was fitting for a man, for a man should never die of old age, withering away to a husk, consumed by age and time, before finally exhaling his final breath on a deathbed.
Those words were seared into my mind, a legacy that was passed down from an elder brother to a younger one, sacred words exchanged and kept. It was one that I rejected finally, after seeing the end of the path. It was one that I did not wish to pursue in the end.
I chose to live my life my own way. If there was anything that I had learned from my brother, it was that every man chooses his own path and lives it.
3/5 Adherence to Prompt: How to life a life is a big topic with many answers. I did feel like the main character was very conscious or clear about his own decisions. This made it hard for me to interpret that his actions were the "steps of the how-to". Being indirect is fine and admirable, but it still must be very clear.
4/5 Spelling and Grammar: little things, nothing major.
7/10 Characterization: The set up for the main character at the beginning of the story is very intriguing. But afterwards, the story skips through time multiple times. This lent itself to a lot of summary. Also, most of the story was dialog. Because it's better to show and not tell, telling/talking in dialog makes it harder for you to flesh out the character. He wasn't grounded in scene or time ever from the beginning. This made it more difficult to show the main character doing anything.
5/10 Plot and Structure: Because there was a lack of scene and time, there was a natural lack of structure. Words seemed to be tossed around between characters we don’t' know in places we can't see.
5/10 Style: There wasn't any ostensible style in the narrative. This is mainly because most of the story was dialog and there were few chances to even offer details about the characters and scenes in a stylistic manner.
7/10 Creativity: Though there was a lack of structure and plot, I could still get a clear sense of what the story was trying to say and do. Living one's living while being juxtaposed to giving/sacrificing one's life was wonderful. Those the story is in a "skeletal" form, I really enjoyed the creativity involved. It can go much further.
Closing comments: Have you read "The things they carried" by Time O'Brien not only represents excellent writing, but how he indirectly characterizes a group of soldier in the war is praise worthy. I would like for you to make a list of all the things you wanted to put into this story. From there we can discuss different ways to indirect characterization.
This story is about a transformation. Exposition leads into the climax which, in this case, should be the transformation (the scene where the main character makes a conclusion about himself). Without theses things, the other elements of the story become weaker.
Adherence to Prompt: I was wondering whether it would be clear enough to the readers. At least, it was clear enough to hint at it. Saying outright how to live a life feels... wrong. As you noted, it is a topic with many answers and in the end, I just decided to present a possibility of it.
Spelling and Grammar: ROFL. Ok, got to work on those.
Characterization: I decided to leave this story till the last minute due to the schedule of my real life, and then finished writing everything in the span of a few days. In the end, I decided that I wanted to be abstract about it and deliberately omitted all 'names' from the story. To the same effect, I decided to use first person viewpoint even though I am much more comfortable with third person viewpoint. The idea is that the readers can superimpose themselves onto the narrator to bring forth the feelings within the story. I also believed dialog would flesh out the personalities of the characters more, since one can usually judge what a character is like by seeing how he or she talks. Also, I wanted to avoid description of places as I wanted to focus on how the narrator changes his mind in the end within such a short piece. Looking back at it, I'll admit you are right and that giving more colors to the settings would enhance the story more.
Plot and Structure: Again, a deliberate omission of places and time. I wanted it to be as generic as possible to give the feelings it could happen to anyone, and especially the readers.
Style: I decided to use snapshots to cram the entire story into a very short one. Again, lack of time to actually expand on the plotlines. I was hoping it wouldn't be too disjointed.
Creativity: I agree. The question is how to go about doing it without offending those in the military line of work, I made a lot of changes to the initial draft simply because I feared it would be too offending to them seeing as the military is sort of a scapegoat here.
Closing comments: I'll look up on that writing. The list will have to wait till later, when I reach home. Thanks again! Your comments are really really appreciated!
A note on my grading: I mark these as if I was doing a professional critique. I will be pretty harsh and I don't give out top marks unless I think the manuscript is publishable. Imagine I am the editor who holds the ability to publish your material or toss it into the circular file. Most slush pile submissions get tossed. You have lots of competition out there, so your story has to be damn near perfect to get published.
I never felt drawn into this story. It just jumped around too much. When the brother died, when the new friend died, when he left the army, I just didn't care because none of these were developed enough. And yet, you tried very hard to make us care with the preaching in between the scenes. If you want to get this preachy, first you need to invest us in the character doing the preaching. I just didn't care enough about the kid who'd lost his brother to take his views on war seriously (even though I basically agreed with him). Every time it happened, I found myself waiting for it to end so we could get back to the story. Tone it down, but first, make us care for the character so that we'll care about what he thinks about the situations.
As with many other stories in this contest (and many I see when critiquing new writers), this story needs a good edit with an eye toward repeated words. Reach for better words to tell the story. Stretch yourself to find the absolute right word each and every time. And then do what every professional writer does - edit the story and remove as many of your pet words as you can (we all have them and we all fall back on them in a pinch; the mark of a great writer is he or she edits them back out).
One last thing I will say is that you need to take a hard look at your descriptions of action. Too often you added more detail than necessary. Look at each sentence and see if it passes the "duh!" test. Is it obvious who he's giving the cigarette to? Then you don't have to tell us that part.
Many thanks! I really appreciate the comments. It'll make me strive harder for the next time. That's a lot of things to mull over and I agree with the assessments. Thanks again!
“If I am going to die, I’ll die like the flare of a dying star. Bright, beautiful, blinding, explosive, and loud. It’ll be a death immortalized in an instantaneous moment of eternal beauty,” my brother once declared to me, with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin. He punctuated that point of his to me by snapping his fingertips right in front of my eyes, making a loud cracking noise that startled me slightly. “That’s how a man should live and die. That’s how I will live and die. My end shall never be on my deathbed.”
“You are not going to die,” I declared in response, narrowing my eyes slightly. “Or mom will ground you forever in your room.”
My brother let out an amused chuckle right then, tousling my hair despite my protest. He grinned again and said, “Mom won’t have a chance to do that.”
“Want to bet?” I asked, grinning in reply.
***
I was too young then to understand what the word ‘die’ really meant. Now, I wished I had never known.
My brother died in the war, in service to his country. It was an honorable death. It was also a death that my brother had once said he preferred.
It was bright from the flames of war, scarring the lands on which it burned. It was loud from the sounds of gunfire penetrating flesh and missiles bombarding ground, erasing both lives and homes from existence. It was blinding from the wanton destruction such a war caused, causing grief without equal to both sides. It was explosive from the sounds of landmines being triggered, at best killing its victims, at worse disabling them for a lifetime. And it was loud from the wails of the millions, suffering needlessly just to satisfy the pride and ego of a few.
It was by all accounts heard and told, an honorable death, especially since it was a life paid in service to the pride of a country. It was told to us in a ceremony by our country’s top leaders, strutting around in their uniforms, emblazoned by countless medals and countless badges of accomplishments. It was a ceremony honoring the deceased by stating their achievements, and awarding plaques of it to the deceased’s families. It was a ceremony done to placate us.
They never found my brother’s body. He would never be given a proper burial. We would never see him a final time. I would never have a chance to say a final goodbye.
It was all hollow and empty inside really.
***
“So, why did you join the army anyway?” asked my companion of me, squatting down beside me with a weary smile, and offered me a smoke from his cigarette. “Here.”
I accepted his offer without a word, nodded my head in thanks and took a puff of smoke from it. The exhaled smoke formed shapeless wisps in the dull morning light, adding meaningless patterns to an otherwise bleary dawn. For a moment, I fancied seeing the face of my brother again, ethereal and smiling in acknowledgment at me.
“A dream,” I replied, passing back the cigarette to him. “It was a desire to experience the path my brother took.”
“Oh?” he asked with interest, taking what was his back. “Your brother was in the military?”
“Yes,” I concurred, smiling slightly. “He was.”
“Well, it is a good thing then,” he replied, crowing a little. “Being in the military teaches a man discipline and the meaning of sacrifice.”
“Have you ever considered the notion of death on the battlefield?” I asked, cocking my head in his direction somewhat. “Ever consider the loss in which your family will experience with your passing?”
His face softened then, and I could see something akin to pride flashing across his face. He patted me on the shoulder solemnly.
“It’s true that I am the only child of my mother. However, she is proud of me,” he said, his eyes scanning the rapidly brightening horizon. “My father was in the military and he died in service for his country. He was honored for his sacrifice. My mom is proud of him, as she is of me. I joined the army with her blessings.”
He laughed loudly and clearly then; the weary lines around his eyes disappeared, even though it was only for a few seconds. He then turned around to me and offered me his cigarette again. “Come, today is a long day.”
I smiled faintly and accepted his offer once more. It was a friendship made.
***
It was a friendship that lasted only for a single day. My newfound friend died the next day from a bullet puncturing his skull. It was fired from a tearful desperate girl, wielding her father’s gun to try and protect her wounded father. Both of them were killed on the spot in retaliation by my furious squadron’s captain.
I heard his mother did not attend her own son’s funeral. It was tragic indeed when a child should pass away from the world before a parent did.
***
“You are leaving?” asked my bunkmate, his mouth agape slightly in surprise and the book he was reading held loosely in his hand by his fingertips. “Why?”
“Personal reasons mostly,” I replied, the ghost of a smile playing on my lips. “I wish to see my family again. But mainly, I wish to try other things.”
“Try other things? Like what?” he asked of me, setting his book carefully on his lap. “You have never brought this issue up before.”
For a moment, there was a distant look in my eyes as I contemplated the future before me.
“Are you okay?” he asked me cautiously, his eyes scrutinizing my face in hesitation. “You were blanking out there.”
“I might take up writing for a living,” I replied, smiling brilliantly. “Or maybe even take up fishing. I heard fishing is the new craze nowadays among the young.”
“Is it?” he asked again, clearly not comprehending my words at all. “I don’t know that. I mean, my granddad was into fishing, but I don’t know it’s any sort of craze.”
“Oh, trust me,” I responded cryptically. “I know it.”
“I guess this means goodbye then,” he said finally, slightly crestfallen. “I will see you around somewhere after this war is over.”
“I’ll keep in touch,” I promised, then continued on determinedly. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it?” he said, nodding his head in assent. “I’ll answer if I can.”
“How should a man live his life?”
***
My brother taught me that such a death was fitting for a man, for a man should never die of old age, withering away to a husk, consumed by age and time, before finally exhaling his final breath on a deathbed.
Those words were seared into my mind, a legacy that was passed down from an elder brother to a younger one, sacred words exchanged and kept. It was one that I rejected finally, after seeing the end of the path. It was one that I did not wish to pursue in the end.
I chose to live my life my own way. If there was anything that I had learned from my brother, it was that every man chooses his own path and lives it.
We'll make you an offer you can't refuse.
Hosting: Vista Mafia
Hosted: Intrigue Mafia (Mini), Seance #43 (Basic), Conflux Mafia (Normal), Goo Mafia (FTQ), Experiment #26 (Basic)
Ongoing/Completed - 0/41
Town/Mafia/SK/Survivor - 30/6/4/1
NKed/Lynched/Survived - 15/11/15
3/5 Adherence to Prompt: How to life a life is a big topic with many answers. I did feel like the main character was very conscious or clear about his own decisions. This made it hard for me to interpret that his actions were the "steps of the how-to". Being indirect is fine and admirable, but it still must be very clear.
4/5 Spelling and Grammar: little things, nothing major.
7/10 Characterization: The set up for the main character at the beginning of the story is very intriguing. But afterwards, the story skips through time multiple times. This lent itself to a lot of summary. Also, most of the story was dialog. Because it's better to show and not tell, telling/talking in dialog makes it harder for you to flesh out the character. He wasn't grounded in scene or time ever from the beginning. This made it more difficult to show the main character doing anything.
5/10 Plot and Structure: Because there was a lack of scene and time, there was a natural lack of structure. Words seemed to be tossed around between characters we don’t' know in places we can't see.
5/10 Style: There wasn't any ostensible style in the narrative. This is mainly because most of the story was dialog and there were few chances to even offer details about the characters and scenes in a stylistic manner.
7/10 Creativity: Though there was a lack of structure and plot, I could still get a clear sense of what the story was trying to say and do. Living one's living while being juxtaposed to giving/sacrificing one's life was wonderful. Those the story is in a "skeletal" form, I really enjoyed the creativity involved. It can go much further.
Closing comments: Have you read "The things they carried" by Time O'Brien not only represents excellent writing, but how he indirectly characterizes a group of soldier in the war is praise worthy. I would like for you to make a list of all the things you wanted to put into this story. From there we can discuss different ways to indirect characterization.
This story is about a transformation. Exposition leads into the climax which, in this case, should be the transformation (the scene where the main character makes a conclusion about himself). Without theses things, the other elements of the story become weaker.
31/50
Spelling and Grammar: ROFL. Ok, got to work on those.
Characterization: I decided to leave this story till the last minute due to the schedule of my real life, and then finished writing everything in the span of a few days. In the end, I decided that I wanted to be abstract about it and deliberately omitted all 'names' from the story. To the same effect, I decided to use first person viewpoint even though I am much more comfortable with third person viewpoint. The idea is that the readers can superimpose themselves onto the narrator to bring forth the feelings within the story. I also believed dialog would flesh out the personalities of the characters more, since one can usually judge what a character is like by seeing how he or she talks. Also, I wanted to avoid description of places as I wanted to focus on how the narrator changes his mind in the end within such a short piece. Looking back at it, I'll admit you are right and that giving more colors to the settings would enhance the story more.
Plot and Structure: Again, a deliberate omission of places and time. I wanted it to be as generic as possible to give the feelings it could happen to anyone, and especially the readers.
Style: I decided to use snapshots to cram the entire story into a very short one. Again, lack of time to actually expand on the plotlines. I was hoping it wouldn't be too disjointed.
Creativity: I agree. The question is how to go about doing it without offending those in the military line of work, I made a lot of changes to the initial draft simply because I feared it would be too offending to them seeing as the military is sort of a scapegoat here.
Closing comments: I'll look up on that writing. The list will have to wait till later, when I reach home. Thanks again! Your comments are really really appreciated!
We'll make you an offer you can't refuse.
Hosting: Vista Mafia
Hosted: Intrigue Mafia (Mini), Seance #43 (Basic), Conflux Mafia (Normal), Goo Mafia (FTQ), Experiment #26 (Basic)
Ongoing/Completed - 0/41
Town/Mafia/SK/Survivor - 30/6/4/1
NKed/Lynched/Survived - 15/11/15
Spelling/Grammar: 4
Characterization: 6
Plot and Structure: 7
Style: 4
Creativity: 6
A note on my grading: I mark these as if I was doing a professional critique. I will be pretty harsh and I don't give out top marks unless I think the manuscript is publishable. Imagine I am the editor who holds the ability to publish your material or toss it into the circular file. Most slush pile submissions get tossed. You have lots of competition out there, so your story has to be damn near perfect to get published.
I never felt drawn into this story. It just jumped around too much. When the brother died, when the new friend died, when he left the army, I just didn't care because none of these were developed enough. And yet, you tried very hard to make us care with the preaching in between the scenes. If you want to get this preachy, first you need to invest us in the character doing the preaching. I just didn't care enough about the kid who'd lost his brother to take his views on war seriously (even though I basically agreed with him). Every time it happened, I found myself waiting for it to end so we could get back to the story. Tone it down, but first, make us care for the character so that we'll care about what he thinks about the situations.
As with many other stories in this contest (and many I see when critiquing new writers), this story needs a good edit with an eye toward repeated words. Reach for better words to tell the story. Stretch yourself to find the absolute right word each and every time. And then do what every professional writer does - edit the story and remove as many of your pet words as you can (we all have them and we all fall back on them in a pinch; the mark of a great writer is he or she edits them back out).
One last thing I will say is that you need to take a hard look at your descriptions of action. Too often you added more detail than necessary. Look at each sentence and see if it passes the "duh!" test. Is it obvious who he's giving the cigarette to? Then you don't have to tell us that part.
We'll make you an offer you can't refuse.
Hosting: Vista Mafia
Hosted: Intrigue Mafia (Mini), Seance #43 (Basic), Conflux Mafia (Normal), Goo Mafia (FTQ), Experiment #26 (Basic)
Ongoing/Completed - 0/41
Town/Mafia/SK/Survivor - 30/6/4/1
NKed/Lynched/Survived - 15/11/15