A story for my creative writing class, Please be my judge Options

[redsrock]

This is for a school assignment, and I’d like as much help as possible. The story itself is set loosely in my post-apocy world, but not much. Anyway, I’ll be posting this in scenes, for reasons I don’t really know. Enjoy. And don't be afraid to give your judgment. I know it's not perfect, so don't hold back.

SCENE ONE

Even though she was long dead, I could still see her so vividly. It felt as if she was sleeping right next to me under the starry night sky, and in a way I suppose that was actually true. Jacob looked so much like his mother Katrina, with his beach blonde hair and baby-blue eyes. Every time I looked into his eyes I saw her, and I saw her staring back at me in him. I hoped she approved of what I was doing. I know I didn’t myself, but there was no other way. Waiting any longer was not an option if I wanted to save Jacob’s life.

He was lying next to me, shivering as usual as if it were twenty degrees below zero, when in fact it was nearly one-hundred degrees above. He had some kind of a high fever, and that was exactly why we had left Oakburg to begin with. I didn’t want to make the dangerous trek across the Deadlands, but none of the medicine in Oakburg had even phased his illness. The Pentagon would have the cure to his illness, or at least that’s what I was hoping. If not, our journey would be for nothing.

“I can’t get to sleep, Danny,” came a whisper from above and behind me. I turned around to see my best friend, ole’ Joseph Granger staring down at me with those mystic green eyes of his. “I’m gonna scout ahead and see if there’s any gang-lairs to be wary of. Just thought I’d let ya’ know.”

I sat up and rubbed the back of my head. The heat had given me a tremendous headache, and to be honest I felt like vomiting right then and there. But I didn’t, because that would have woken up Jacob, and he had just fallen asleep after not having been able to do so for quite some time. I took a drink from my dirty water and nodded at Doc. “Yeah, sure. Be careful, though. You need my rifle?”

He crinkled up his lips and shook his head, waving away the offer with his hairy, wrinkly hand. “Nah, I got me pistol and that’s all I’ll need. ‘Sides, I don’t plan on fightin’ with ‘em if I do find ‘em. Don’t worry, Danny, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

I watched as he disappeared into the shadows, and then I walked over to where our cow, Betty, was resting nearby. She wasn’t sleeping either, apparently taken back by the hideous heat just as I was. She started to whine softly and I quickly stroked her back to relieve her of stress. She wasn’t doing very well either, and I could tell by the way she had acted over the past few days, ever since we left Oakburg in fact.

The Pentagon was our destination, a system of five large cities connected via high concrete walls. It was said that if one were to look down upon the cities from the sky they’d see a pentagon, hence the name. The Pentagon had the best of everything, most importantly medicine. Oakburg was a tiny little thing that was barely worth calling a village to begin with. Then again, anything outside the Pentagon was worthless. They called it the Deadlands for a reason after all. Mostly because of the monsters and gangs that roamed, but also for the deadness that had fallen since the Old War ended and the New World begin. I wasn’t alive during the Old War, but from what I’ve experienced it couldn’t have been any worse than the New.

Drinking the rest of my dirty water, I watched Jacob sleep. Not soundly mind you, but more restlessly than I had ever seen him be. He was getting worse and worse by the day, and I wished I hadn’t listened to that fool of a doctor back in Oakburg, if you could even call him a doctor that is. Jacob was only eight years old, yet his life was already being threatened, and by something I had no control over. I think that’s what made it worse for me, knowing that I couldn’t do a thing to help, other than pray to God that we make it the Pentagon before it’s too late. Of course, God and I haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately, mostly because I’m not even sure he’s there to begin with. They say God watches over everyone, but how the hell can that be true when my little boy is on the verge of dying more and more each day? What’d he do to anyone to deserve something so horrible?

But here I am, ranting again. Oh I’m suuuuure God is indeed there, and I’m also sure this is some kind of plan he has in store for everyone. Why else would the almighty God let an innocent eight year old boy die a horrible death when that eight year old boy has been nothing but a sweet angel to everyone he has ever met in his entire life? I mean, if Jacob is to die, then it MUST be for a reason, right? Right?

[censored].

Jacob didn’t deserve to go through what he was going through. Back when my mother and father were still alive, they used to preach to me that God’s way was the only way, and that anything else was wrong. I believed them then because it seemed right. It seemed like the sensible thing to believe in. Hell, ever since the Atomic War took place and divided what used to be the “United States of America” into simply “America”, nothing’s been right. Man finally got bored enough to decide and kill itself, and now almost everyone is struggling to survive each and every day. Except for those living in the Pentagon of course. Those living in the Pentagon are having the time of their lives. I’m sure of it. But how can one claim that the destruction of the earth as we knew it was brought upon by the will of God himself? Why would he want to destroy what he created to begin with? To make us suffer for our sins? I don’t buy that, not at all. The world has been [censored]ting on itself for hundreds of years. If “cleansing our sins” had been the reason, God would have worked his magic during the Great Wars. He wouldn’t have waited this long.

However, the New World has existed for two-hundred years, give or take depending on who you talk to. I don’t want to say that I don’t believe in God at all, but let’s just say that if he is indeed real, he’s not on my good list. I lost my beautiful wife just minutes after she had given birth to our Jacob. Wasn’t that enough for him? Was really that hungry where now he has to take my son as well? Why? Why has he been doing this to me? Perhaps it’s me who is fault. Maybe I am what is wrong, and he’s punishing those around me who I love for whatever ill I’ve done wrong. I don’t know, that sounds a bit absurd. Then again, so does slowly murdering an innocent little boy.

“You alright, Danny boy?”

I looked up, startled, to see Joseph standing just a mere few feet in front of me. I don’t how long he had been gone, but all I knew was that I was lying on the ground, looking up at the stars. I didn’t remember ever leaving my feet, but apparently I had. “Yeah, Joe, I’m fine. What’d you out there? Anything?”

“Nah, nothin’ interestin’ at least. I found a dead rat, though,” he said, pointing to the body of a dead rat that was resting next to our backpacks. “It don’t look that old, so maybe it’ll make us a good supper? It’s only ten o’clock and we haven’t eaten the entire day. What do ya’ say, Danny boy?”

“I don’t know, it might wake Jacob up.”

“Ya’, but that’d prolly be a good thing, y’know? The boy needs to eat, Danny. He’s skinny and weak enough as it is. Do you want me to get a fire a roarin’ or not?”

I slowly nodded, and Joseph got out the cooking tools, eager to chow down on some tasty rat.

[Colonel Mustard]

So, it's crit you want, eh?

Well, there are no glaring errors that I can see. The writing style is of the usual high standard that I've come to expect from you, and it was pretty powerful. You've already painted a vivid picture of the world your characters inhabit, but at the same time without info dumping. Considering that this in only the first part, that's one hell of an achievement.

Only thing that really grates with me is the opening. I can't quite put my finger on it, to be honest, but I'm just not too keen on it.

Then again, that's just me probably being me.

[redsrock]

No, it's not just you. I literally went through four different beginnings before I stuck with this one. I think it's mostly because this is my own world, and I'm having trouble explaining things without infodumping. It's been a very frustrating past few days.

Thanks, Bean.

[Olen]

I disagree about the opening, I think it's very well done. It would be better if Katrina were to be more central to the plot but it draws the reader in and delivers a hook with saving Jacob's life which draws the reader on into the rest of the scene and introduces the central motive of the plot.

There were a few lines I found a bit cluncky. getting worse and worse by the day, the 'and worse' seems unnessessary and slows things down, likewise Maybe I am what is wrong, and he’s punishing those around me who I love for whatever ill I’ve done wrong . The second wrong jars the first and strikes me as superfluous. But to be honest redrafting will take these out.

I'm not sure about you're use of 'the pentagon' as a city, if it has something to do with the military building then there's no issue but if it doesn't it sends the reader's mind off in the wrong direction.

My final thought is one of style, there's quite a long section of internal musing which, IMO, became removed from the here and now of the scene and echoed in the reader's mind. Especially seeing as this is the opening part it might be wise to consider whenther sacrificing focus is worth it at this stage.

I think thats all the issues and to be honest they're very minor, more points to consider than problems. I like how you managed to introduce the world and give the reader a fair idea of what its like without infodumping.

This post has been edited by Olen: Feb 8 2009, 06:43 PM

[redsrock]

Gracias, Olen. You're comments have been noted. I'll be editing the chapter later on this evening.

[redsrock]

SCENE TWO

The campfire never did disturb Jacob’s sleep as I thought it would. Instead he continued to sleep. But again, restlessly, not peacefully. If anything the shivering had only gotten worse, and while the meat had been cooking I had thought about waking him up so he could finally eat something. He hadn’t eaten anything at all that day, and he would need his strength for the days ahead. Joseph seemed to think that was a good idea, but still, sleep to me was more important than food. Besides, it would only be a few more days until we arrived at the Pentagon and Jacob could eat in the morning. For the time being I would let him rest.

“How’s the meat?” Joseph asked, taking an enormous chunk out of his share.

“Very good. You’re a good cook. You know that?”

He laughed loudly and then quickly put a hand to his mouth, remembering that Jacob was sleeping just a few feet away.

“Yah, I do know. Me papa used to cook all the time when I was just a little thing. ‘Course back then we didn’t live in Oakburg. We came from the south, as you already know. Anyhoo, he taught me all there was to know about cookin’ raw meat. I just wish we had some salt and pepper. Y’know what I mean?”

I nodded and then continued to eat. “It’d also be better if we had something to drink besides dirty water. You’d think I’d get used to it after all these years, but I haven’t. It’s surprising that neither of us have ever gotten sick from the water.”

“Sure is, Danny. Though the water in Oakburg was alright I guess. It’s the radiated rivers and lakes you gotta worry ‘bout, especially those in the Deadlands.”

At first that’s what I thought was wrong with Jacob. I had assumed our luck with water had run out and Jacob had been infected with radiation poisoning. Thankfully the doctor in Oakburg ruled that out, and said it was likely some kind of severe fever. Still, you had to be careful, and like Joseph said, especially in the Deadlands where almost every body of water was radiated.

We finished eating and put away the tools, but we didn’t put out the fire. Neither of us was tired, which was rather surprising to both of us. He and I hadn’t gotten any sleep for the past two days or so, myself worried about Jacob and he probably feeling the same way. He was like a brother to me. A slightly older brother, but still. We decided to sit around the campfire and talk a little.

“How long do you think Jacob has left, Joseph?” I asked, my voice partially choked up. I wasn’t sure where the question came from, but it simply came out. I suppose it was something I had been thinking about ever since leaving Oakburg, because like I said, he was getting worse every day. “And tell me the truth. You used to be a doctor, right? I need to know the truth, Joseph.”

“I used to be a doctor, yes, but it was ages ago, Danny boy. And there’s a reason why I ain’t one no more,” he winked. “But, if you really wanna a truthful answer, I’m gonna hafta say I don’t really know. It could be days, or it could be hours. If I was a betting man, and I assure you I ain’t, I’d bet on the first. But there’s really no tellin’ with these kinda situations. These are the times when you just have to take it minute by minute, and that’s all you can really do.”

I nodded and then looked out into the darkness, expecting to see nothing but wanting to see everything. I wanted to see some light in that dark shroud. An answer. But I got nothing but a blank stare, just as I expected. Sometimes you don’t get what you want.

“Yes…I thought so. I just…I don’t want him to die, Joseph. For Katrina as much as myself. She was…she was so excited when she learned she was pregnant.” I laughed, and then kicked at a stone in the dirt with my right leather boot. “I mean, you should have seen her. She made an entire scrapbook before he was even born, so she’d be ready, you know? And then, well then…you know.”

I dipped my head even lower because I felt as if I was about to cry, and the thought of crying in front of Joseph wasn’t a pleasant one. I had never seen the man cry himself, and I myself never cried in public. I wasn’t that I thought crying was “unmanly”. On the contrary, I’ve cried many a time in my short thirty-three years of life. But the one thing I’ve held constant is my pride, and my determination to remain emotionally strong. I can’t even tell you much I cried when and after Katrina died. And I’m also not afraid to say that I’ve cried this past week, what with Jacob’s condition and whatnot. But the one thing I’ve never done is cry in front of someone. Thinking about it lately, though, I’m not sure whether any of that matters not. Who’s to say that crying for my son is a bad thing? To be totally honest, I don’t quite give a damn whether someone thinks crying is bad or not. I’ll let them go through what I’ve went through, and then we’ll see if their opinions change stay the same.

And before I even knew what was happening, a tear fell down my right cheek, rolling down my chin and dropping down into the dirt. I had just broken my own personal golden rule. I tried to wipe away the remnants of the tear before Joseph saw, but it was too late.

“Sorry, Joseph,” I said, not able to look him in the eye.

“Sorry for what?”

“For crying in front of you. I don’t mean to, but…things just…I don’t know. First Katrina died giving birth to Jacob, and now he’s on the verge of his own death. I don’t want Katrina to be disappointed with me, and I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing that I wasn’t able to save my son’s life.”

Joseph stood up from his seat in the dirt and walked over to me and then sat back down. He patted me on the shoulder with a massive hand and smiled. “You haven’t disappointed Katrina, Danny boy. She woulda’ been proud to see Jacob grow up into the boy he’s become over the years. Don’t blame this illness on you, because that’s wrong. There was nothing you coulda’ done to stop this madness. Some things in life simply happen for a reason and we must go with it. Y’know what I mean?”

“No, I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my fists clinches tightly. “I don’t understand why things ‘just happen’. I actually find that excuse being more of a pathetic copout than anything. No offence to you of course, Joseph. I’m not angry with you. I just want some answers. I want to know why Katrina had to be taken away from me, and I want to know why the same thing might happen with Jacob? Why?”

“Maybe it’s because we’re not supposed to know? Does that make any sense, Danny boy?”

“No…not really. Care to explain?”

“Well, the way I see it, everyone is indeed on earth for a reason, and everything in the world happens for a reason. You know I’m quite the religious fella’, but I ain’t afraid to admit that I’ve questioned things during my lifetime as well, God himself included. What I think is that God is testing us, testing our faith. If we continue to live throughout this hell of a world, then we will be redeemed once we die, once we go up to heaven. To me, life itself is one big test. If you pass, you get to be with your loved ones for the rest of eternity. If you don’t pass…well, I don’t wanna think what the consequences might be. But let’s put it this way, if you don’t pass the test of life, you don’t deserve to be with your loved ones. And you, Danny boy, do deserve it. Don’t worry, I know things are tough for you right now, but everything will work itself out in the end. It always does.”

I had no response to that, so I simply shrugged my shoulders. Joseph patted me on the back and then took his hand away to stretch his long arms high into the air. I didn’t agree with any of that, but I didn’t see the point in arguing. It was late and I was beginning to become tiresome. And Joseph was too.

“Let’s go to bed now,” he said at last. “I’m startin’ to get a little tired, and we gotta big day ahead of us tomorrow anyway.”

I nodded and then watched him put out the fire. We said our goodnights and went to our beds. While resting beside the restlessly sleeping Jacob, I looked up into the sky. I saw nothing but pure beauty; a full moon, a collection of bright, gorgeous stars, and not a cloud in sight. Such beauty reminded me of Katrina and her warm, caring smile. A smile that had brightened my day countless times. Could it be that she was one of the stars I was looking at? Maybe that’s what really happened when one died. Maybe everyone got to be their own star, high above the world for everyone to see. And even though Jacob was someday going to be a beautiful star just like his mother, I wasn’t ready for that to happen yet.

[Olen]

Good development, my primary criticism is that there were a number of rough patches in the prose which, though not incorrect, felt awkward, to me at least.

The opening line for example: The campfire never did disturb Jacob’s sleep consider didn't for never did which, to me, seems contrived. Also the second 'sleep' jars the first and might benifit from being changed.

There was a paragraph somewhere which had some very awkward phrases which could be simplified to improve flow. This is somewhat a preference, if you like to use gramatical fireworks then by all means do but I just find they distract from the actual meaning the words were intended to covney.

I was beginning to become tiresome I think you mean tired.

where almost every body of water was radiated Now... I doubt you mean 'was radiated', that's the present perfect of radiate. In essence the phrase means that the water was given out as rays, or that it radiated from the centre of something. You might consider irradiate which means to expose to radiation though this would not actually lead to the water becoming dangerous to a significant degree. You might want to consider contaminated as a replacement. The above does assume that I correctly guessed your meaning of course which I may not have.

infected with radiation poisoning Infected struck me as strange here as radiation sickness isn't strictly infectous. This does depend on how scientifically accurite (or similar to ours) your world is. For more info I can recomend wikipedia as having a fairly good article on it.

As I said solid update and as before these are just suggestion to think over. Hope they're helpful.

This post has been edited by Olen: Feb 10 2009, 04:10 PM

[redsrock]

Ah, I agree with everything you said. Sometimes things sound good in my head, but when they come out they don't look nearly as good.

Thanks.

[Colonel Mustard]

Hmm, nothing I can really put that Olen hasn't said already, but I did notice one thing. You say radiated, but if I remember correctly, something that has been made radioactive is described as irradiated.

Other than that, a good part.

[redsrock]

Yeah, I caught that as well after reading through it this morning. Gracias, Bean.

[redsrock]

SCENE THREE (FINALE)

When the sun rose over the Deadlands the next morning, I was the first to wake. Joseph followed in a matter of minutes, and we both began to fix breakfast. Just a few minutes after I began cooking some of the leftover rat meat from last night, Jacob finally awoke from his own slumber. He rubbed his eyes and began to moan as if he were in pain. And while I very well knew he was, it still scared me just the same.

“What’s wrong, Jacob?”

“I d-don’t feel good, daddy. I feel really tired, and I h-hurt all over.”

His tiny voice squeaked with feat. The fear of not knowing why he exactly he was sick. I wasn’t sure what to say, because throughout the entire ordeal he hadn’t said much. I felt his forehead, and he was hotter than ever. “You’re warm.”

“I d-don’t feel warm. I’m c-cold, daddy. Really cold. I’m thirsty, t-t-too. Can I have some w-water?”

Sure thing, buddy. Let me get some for you really quick.”

I turned around to grab my bottle of water from the ground, but when I turned around Joseph was standing in front of me with the bottle already in hand. “Here you go, Danny boy,” he said, a wide and friendly grin spread about his hairy face.

I thanked him and then quickly handed the half-empty bottle to Jacob, who chugged it down within seconds. After he was done he licked the remaining water from his lips, and then handed me the empty bottle, his land hand shaking like a maraca. “I’m sorry I-I drank it all, daddy, but I was r-really thirty. My throat hurts r-really b-bad.”

Was a sore throat part of a fever? I wasn’t a doctor by any means, so I had no clue. I looked at Joseph and he simply shrugged his shoulder. Then I turned back to Jacob, his body lying on the bed again, shivering as much as I had ever seen him.

“I’m sorry, buddy, but I don’t have anything to help your sore throat.” He didn’t respond, but rather looked as if he was trying to go back to sleep. “Jacob, you need to wake up and eat something.”

“Nooooo,” he moaned, his eyes closing and his mouth quivering. “I’m n-not hungry, daddy. I’m just so sore. I w-wanna sleep. Just let me sleep, p-pleeeease.”

I left him to sleep because that’s what he wanted, and I didn’t want to cause him anymore pain that what he was already suffering. It was obvious in his eyes, the pain I mean. He was suffering something a little boy should never suffer. And the pain that I felt was nearly as equal. Seeing my son suffer was the worst thing that had ever happened to me, even worse than watching Katrina die. The bond between a parent and his or her child is so incredibly strong.

Once he had fallen back asleep again, I looked at Joseph. He was sitting by the campfire, finishing the rat meat.

“Joseph, I’m going to go into the woods and look for more firewood. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it without saying a word. He only nodded, and I walked out of the camp.

* * * * *

After twenty-minutes of walking, I finally figured out that I wasn’t trying to find firewood at all. Instead I was trying to find solitude, a peaceful place where it was just me and no one else. I needed some time to think about everything that’s happened; and not just Jacob’s illness, mind you, but more specifically an actual cure to the illness. As far as I knew, we were still miles and miles away from the Pentagon and its heavenly medicines and remedies. What if we didn’t make it? It was a thought that had crossed my mind, especially given Jacob’s current condition. Soon he would pass, and I knew this. I think finally coming to that realization was important for me, because now I was faced with another problem. What would happen next?
Would we turn around and try to make it back to Oakburg? Would we live in the mountains of the Deadlands and attempt to live out our lives that way? Or was there another solution to the problem. I didn’t like seeing Jacob suffer. Perhaps if there was a quicker way to end his pain, I would have been at ease.

But why would I ask such a question when I already knew the answer? Of course there was a quick exit to Jacob’s pain and suffering, but it was one that I had never thought about until right then and there as I walked through the forest. Then again, the answer was so morally wrong, and I couldn’t quite see myself coming to such a questionable decision. Killing my son would do the trick, but…could I really do such a thing?

Of course, the hot was likely getting to me. I didn’t what the temperature was exactly, but it had to have been over one-hundred degrees. Sweat was pouring down my body like water, and I felt as if the hair on my head was on fire. I wouldn’t be surprised to be some kind of fire later in the day, due to a careless person forgetting to stomp out their cigarette. Suddenly the heat finally took over me, and I fell to my knees.

The next thing I saw was darkness.




I awoke from my apparent fainting by means of a squirrel pawing at my cheek. I was resting face up on the ground, and the little fellow came up and scratched me on the cheek, but did not draw any blood. After hopping up quickly (because I thought I was being attacked by an irradiated rat) the normal-looking squirrel took off running in fright, climbing up a tree and out of sight.

Not knowing what time it was I looked up into the sky. The sun was hanging low, and I didn’t know whether that meant it was still morning, or if I had slept the entire afternoon. Either way I knew I had to get back to the camp and check on Jacob. But before I could do anything else, something caught my full attention from up ahead.

What I saw was some kind of large, shiny, metallic object. The color of the object was unknown to me because I was so far away, but as I neared I realize it was a gate, and it was painted gold. No…it was made of gold. The gate was outside of the forest, and I knew this because I could actually see the end of the path out of the forest myself. Once I exited the forest I stepped not onto more dead dirt, but the greenest and smoothest grass I had ever seen. Hundreds of different types of flowers were spread out throughout the grass, and tall, healthy trees with thousands of leaves lined the sides of the golden gate in front of me.

Looking at the gate itself, I was taken back in awe by the size of it; it was at least five times my height, and that certainly saying something since I was a good six foot even myself. It was indeed made of gold, and on either side of the gate were pearl-white walls that stretched so far that I couldn’t see an end no matter how hard I focused my tired eyes. It was almost as if the walls kept going forever and ever.

Next I peered through the crisscross-patterned golden gate and saw what looked to be thousands of people. They walked along clean streets paved with bright red brick, and the sidewalks were made of what looked to be multi-colored cobblestone, mostly shades of grey and brown. The people themselves were dressed in rich, bright attires; the ladies wearing lavish purses and the men wearing expensive hats, both articles of clothing in various colors. Looking at my dirty, holey, clothes, it was amazing to see such exquisite apparel. It appeared that everyone walked in groups, adults of all ages. And at the sides of these adults were many, many children and teenagers of all ages, and even babies being held in the women’s hands. I marveled at how clean everything looked, and then I noticed the tall buildings throughout the city. They were just as pearl white as the walls were, and just as clean as well. It was so amazing to see such a beautiful scene in such an ugly world. The people walking about paid me no attention, almost as if they couldn’t see me. Up in the sky birds of different varieties flew, together peacefully without violence.

Rolling down the street from my left was a stunningly beautiful wooden carriage, pulled in front by four enormous horses. They reminded me of horses I read about in a book once. I think that had been called…Clydesdales, or something like that. The harnesses around the horses back and neck were encrusted with what appeared to be diamonds, and the carriage itself was a shiny yellow coloring that glowed with sheer beauty, so bright that I almost had to shield my eyes from the sun’s glare that reflected off of the carriage. It came to a stop just a few feet in front of me, and I realized the carriage was almost two times my height. The doors to the carriage, bordered by gleaming gold, and out came the tallest man that I had ever seen in my life.

He had to have been at least eight feet tall, perhaps even more than that. He wore an extravagant blue and yellow silk robe that went all the way down to his feet, and he had gorgeous blue silk shoes to match. In his right hand was a walking stick made of a pure marble of a creamy kind of color. In his left was a single string, a bag made of red velvet dangling below. The outfit of this man was truly awe-inspiring, for I had never witnessed such expensive clothing, nor had I seen such a magnificent cane. Back in Oakburg, the only canes around were made from already dead trees, and usually lasted no more than a couple of weeks at best.

It was only then that I realized the man was looking at me, his mystical green eyes gazing into mine. His cherry-red lips were spread out into the most enormous smile possible. His face and skin was so light that I swore I could almost see through him. A beard as white as snow took up his entire face below his eyes, and his long, fine hair (which was just as white) dangled so far that it went down to his stomach.

My jaws were hanging open, in awe of the man standing in front of me. I knew not what to say, or if there was anything to say at all. It was obvious to me that this man was very important, and somehow I also knew he was going to help me. I cannot explain it, other than that it was a feeling that came from the most inner parts of my stomach, rising all the way to my chest, forcing my hold body to tingle with astonishment.

The man stepped forward several paces, and I felt myself back up a few steps in fear. The man laughed, the tone of his laugh bellowing throughout the city. At this, the men and women and their children stopped what they were doing and transfixed their eyes open. They said not a word, but they entire focus was on me and me alone.

Then he bellowed yet another laugh and said, “You need not to be afraid of me, brave Daniel Granger. I’ve been waiting for this time to arrive, and I believe you have as well.”

I said nothing to the man, and rather my knees gave way and I fell to the ground. With my hands pressed against the ground behind me, I spread my legs out and simply sat there, not really knowing what else to do.

“How do you know my name?” I asked in a whisper, my voice trembling in both terror and curiosity.

The man only continued to smile. “It is not just your name that I am I aware of, Daniel. I recognize all names, just as I am acquainted with all souls. I am the Eternal Answer, Daniel. No matter how arduous life appears to be, never let that slip your mind. Remember that there is always a way of hope. Unfortunately for you, that hope has been difficult to discover, and at times you seem to question whether there is hope to begin with. However, do your beautiful boy a favor and try harder. Hold out your right hand for me.”

I did what he said and I released my once-clenched right hand. The man opened up the red velvet sack and held it upside down just a foot above my hand. From the bag, purple Iris petals floated down onto my hand. I knew from what plant the petals came from because Katrina had been a flower enthusiast, and I still had many books on flowers that she read constantly.

“What do these petals mean?”I asked the man. “Do they have something to do with my son? Tell me!”

“I shall leave you with these final words, dear Daniel,” he smiled. “The pain and anguish that Jacob suffers does not have to be. Find the iron tool of fire and you will also find closure for Jacob’s pain, as well as yours.”

The iron tool of fire? I had no idea what this mysterious man was talking about, nor did I know who he was to begin with. The way he talked and the way he acted reminded me of someone. His apparent knowledge of everything was quite…overwhelming, to say the least.

“Who are you?”

The man only chuckled and stomped his cane against the ground. And then darkness shrouded me once more.




“Wake up, Danny boy! Wake up!”

My eyes finally opened and I found myself lying face up on the dry, dead ground of the forest. Joseph had been lightly slapping at my cheek, and that must have been what woke me up. I sat up on my bottom and looked at Joseph, who was knelt over above me.

“Where…what…what happened, Joseph?”

His face looked very concerned at first, but once I had begun talking he lightened up just a bit. “I don’t know, Danny. You tell me. It’s been all day since you left and I came out here and found you lying on the ground. You must have passed out in this awful heat.”

Passed out? Could it really be? Could the city and the man really have been a dream? I looked ahead and did not see any sign of a clearing, and instead I only saw more forest that seemed to stretch continuously. The golden gate was nowhere to be seen. If it was a dream, then the man might have been exactly who I thought he was. He was God. I…just knew he was. He had have been. The Eternal Answer! It all made sense! The iron tool of fire was still confusing, though. It would end Jacob’s…Jacob!

“Where’s Jacob?” I asked loudly, looking around in all directions as if I expected him to appear before me.

“He’s back at the camp. He’s…he’s not doing well, Danny. He won’t talk to me at all, and I fear he’s on the way towards…towards….”

Joseph didn’t have to finish his sentence for me to understand what was happening. I jumped up from my position and began sprinting back towards the camp, Joseph following close behind.

Jacob was sleeping soundly when we arrived back at the camp, or at least that’s what I hoped he was doing. When I tried to stir him we wouldn’t wake, and the fears of a coma were starting to settle in. But it couldn’t be a coma, because you couldn’t get a coma from a fever…could you? I didn’t know the answer, and I was about to ask Joseph when I felt something metal at my side. It was my pistol. Suddenly everything connected together and I knew what I was supposed to do.

Find the iron tool of fire and you will also find closure for Jacob’s pain, as well as yours.

The iron tool of fire was my pistol. Did God really want me to kill my son? That just didn’t sound like something he would say. It sounded so…wrong. Then again, I had not a clue if it was God in my dream to begin with. And if it wasn’t, perhaps I wasn’t supposed to use the iron tool at all. I took the pistol from its holster and put it to my face, looking at very closely, trying to decide on what to do. There Jacob rested, probably hours from death, maybe even minutes. The Pentagon was so far away and I knew this. All along I likely knew we wouldn’t be able to make it. But it had been false hope that had kept me going the entire time.

“How far away from the Pentagon do you think we are, Joseph?” I asked.

He did not immediately answer, but when he did he first gave out a long and depressing sigh. “At least a few more days, probably more.”

I nodded slightly, though not to Joseph, but to the iron tool. The fire that the tool held from within would burn away my son’s pain, but could I really do it? Could I actually end my son’s pain by means of a bullet?

“What are you doing with the gun?” Joseph asked, but I didn’t answer.

Instead of answering I cocked the gun, closed my eyes, and then quickly fired a round into the back of my son’s head, and at least he was at peace. The sound of the gun firing echoed throughout the land. A group of birds from a nearby tree scattered up into the sky, and behind me I heard Joseph gasp in disbelief. I did not look at my son because I did not want to see the blood and gore that I had undoubtedly caused. As I turned away to meet Joseph’s eyes, surprisingly I did not bawl my eyes out as I thought I would. Instead, a few tears trickled down my cheeks and that was it.

Joseph, whose eyes were transfixed to the bullet hole in Jacob’s head, simply said, “You just killed him, Danny. You…you really killed him.”

“I killed him, yes, but in doing so I finally ended his pain. I was tired of seeing him suffer, Joseph. It was either let him to continue to be hurt, or end it with a quick click of my gun. I chose the latter because I felt that was the right thing to do. Maybe not morally, but to be totally honest with you, I don’t quite care about morals anymore. My son is free, and that is all that matters.”

I offered that as an excuse, but in reality it really was the truth. Killing him hadn’t hurt my psyche as much as I thought it would, mostly because I knew Jacob’s pain had finally ceased

I picked up my bag and went for Betty the cow, but she was lying dead on the ground. She must have died either when I had left, or when Joseph had come looking for me. I didn’t care, though, because all I wanted to do was leave. I didn’t even want to bury my son, and to hear that thought come out in my head was hard. The thought of ending his life with a gun was hard enough, and as bad as it sounded, I wanted to leave and never see my son again.

“Where are you going now?” Joseph.

“I don’t know…away from here, though. Are you coming or not?”

He looked at me for a few seconds and then shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, Danny, but I can’t come with you.”

I sighed, nodded, and then left Joseph and Jacob for the very last time. Leaving was hard, I’ll tell you that. And as I left I thought about what happened. Many people would say that I murdered my son needlessly, but I wouldn’t agree with them. I don’t know if God would either, just as I don’t know if it was God who I had spoke to in my dreams. None of that mattered to me, though. If there really was a God, surely he would understand why I did what I did. If he did not understand, oh well. The pain was over, and that was good enough for me.

[Colonel Mustard]

Ouch, Reds, that was really harsh-you lead the reader on like that and then you kill little Jacob.

That said, the actual deed seemed a little skipped over, and I can't say I thought that that was too good. While you shouldn't milk it, I agree, but it doesn't seem right that the most momentous part of the story was done so quickly. Put some more detail into, a bit more description. "Instead of answering I cocked the gun, closed my eyes, and then quickly fired a round into the back of my son’s head, and at least he was at peace," seems a bit too dispassionate for a father who seems to really care for his child.

[redsrock]

I don't know, I sort of meant for it to be all quicklike. The father realizes that his son is going to continue to suffer unless he ends it himself. But maybe you're right, it probably should have been a bit longer. Remember, though, I'm working with a page limit, and I believe I am tipping the scale as it is. Nevertheless, I'll go back and edit of course, making changes here and there.

Thanks for you continued interest, Bean.

But I want to ask....did you not like the end AT ALL, or did you simply think it should have been longer? Keep in mind that I meant for it to be harsh.

[Colonel Mustard]

It wasn't that I actively disliked the ending, it's just that I felt it could have done with a little lengthening.

Oh, and I forgot to say thank you for letting me into TESFU.

FANK OOO!

[redsrock]

Ah, I see. Thanks a lot, dood.

And no problem. I'm glad you signed up.

[Olen]

Right.. that was unexpected but most certainly not unwelcome. The ending made that piece and made it good. I liked it.

Having said that there are a few comments/opinions I have:

Firstly, IMO, the dream scene dragged too long, there were too many adjectives and descriptions of non-essential things to mantain the tightness required in short fiction (at least IMO), its slowed the thing down too much and killed the atmosphere and reader's attention. I see why you wanted to drop the pace a bit but you might want to consider less drastic measures.

And I agree with beanie, the actual deed seemed a bit skipped over, especially next to the dream scene. It's a very fine balance on how much to make of it, but it is the key moment and a little more, while not milking seven hells out of it, might improve the impact of the piece and give the reader longer to ponder whats happening (this is important).

Personally I would have used the end to darken the piece a lot and leave it more ambiguos, but that's very much my own taste.

Now for specifics:

His tiny voice squeaked with feat - tiny made him seem younger than I had envisaged, and with feat is odd grammar (though I'd avaoid fear unless you do something with the following word).

his land hand shaking - was a word missed here or is it a typo?

He had have been - grammar, I don't normally bother mentioning things like this but that section might benifit from a little tightening

and at least - read it though, might just be me but I felt it somehow didn't fit.

Overall a good piece, I like the edge of darkness it has and the psyclogical element with the narrator. I also like the setting and the close small scale of it. Perhaps a bit more exploration of the psycological side of it would have been more to my personal tastes but it was very much there so good stuff.

Overall a solid short story.

[redsrock]

Thank you so much for your continued interest and help, Olen. You don't know how much I appreciate it. Unfortunately I turned my story in last night, but it's all good because it's only the first draft, and I'll still be able to go back and edit.

Thanks again, man.

[Colonel Mustard]

Don't forget to give Olen and I some credit, Reds!

And be sure to let us know how you did. Best of luck

[Olen]

I'm glad you can still edit. As I said I liked this piece, it managed to achieve some character development over a very short space which is great (vital even and it was well handled.

What sort of creative writing class is it?

[redsrock]

Don't forget to give Olen and I some credit, Reds! biggrin.gif

Don't worry. I will.

What sort of creative writing class is it?

We're sort of all over the place, but our major projects will be the short story that we're working on now, a poetry packet, and then a creative essay.

And because my professor is so cool, he's also told us how to write submission letters, letters that an author sends to publishers and whatnot.

Also, my story was...a little too long. We were supposed to stay under thirteen pages, but mine ended up being 19 1/2. It's cool, though, because two other people did something similar, so we're all three in a group together.