Wreybies

This is my very first post and I’ve got on my thickest skin, so have at it and let me know what you think. It’s a piece of flash fic I wrote some time ago.









“Father, she is crying again.” Miles beneath the lunar surface pale hands from under white gauze sleeves touch a wall screen.

“I see, child. You have seen this often; do not allow this to trouble you. They cry for many reasons: joy, fear, love, sadness.” Thin hands spotted with age come to rest on young shoulders.

“I wish I could talk to her.” Soft blue eyes again scan the scene displayed on the wall. How many had unknowingly lived their lives in front of him? How many had he wished to comfort and console, inform of secrets withheld.

“You cannot know them and be of them, child. Your presence would change them. Your questions would alter them and your interference would move them in directions they would not have taken. You know these things.” Milky eyes fall on brown hair and lament. Perhaps too much time spent with the lad had brought on the clouded thoughts of adulthood.

“Maybe I could hide. I see them do it all the time. They wouldn’t know I was there.” The white bell sleeve slips passed the youth’s elbow as his hand caresses the sad face on the screen once more. His eyes sparkle with tears for her. The elder’s eyes sparkle with tears knowing the youth’s time watching has come to an end. His mind was becoming confused with rationality. Soon he would begin to interpret, and then he would come to edit, then to deny.

Tomorrow to the Records instead of the watching screen.

“We have spent too much time together, young one. I have sped you too quickly to maturity. Only fifteen and already beginning to question instead of seeing the truth in front of you. I have done you a disservice, I fear. Come now and help an old man to his room.” Youth takes its place to bolster age through this short journey. Eyes meet filled with concern, each covetous of the other.

Just Jim

Hi Wreybies,

Your writing is technically very good, and your style is consistent throughout.

Now to the less positive. Please don't let my comments discourage you.

The story seems incomplete. The youth wants to interact with ????, and so he is not allowed to come back to the screen.

The dialog is stilted. I can tell you wanted it to sound different than every day talking, but I can't tell why.

The narrative is passive:

"The old man placed his thin hands on the youth's shoulders."

I think you are more intent on showing us your writing ability than on telling us a story.

It's clear to me that you can write. Why don't you try rewriting this story as an ordinary person would tell it, and then post it as a reply to this thread.

Good luck with your writing.
Jim

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Wreybies

You are quite right about the dialogue. I was never very happy with it. I was after a certain ‘feel’ that just never happened.

Passive voice, hmm? Bad habits are hard to kick. We have no such proscription in Spanish.

I’m not currently working in this piece, but I am going to take you advice and give this tiny story a rewrite.

Thank you, Jim. Your input is very much appreciated. Speculative fiction has almost no literary audience where I live. Getting an honest, technical review of my work is very refreshing.