Nikatu

The Third Bell

By Anthony Smith

The blizzard increased in its power to the point where the boys could not have seen ten feet in front of their faces had there been any light to see by. They had left to go play in the snow too long ago to remember, after supper, with the instructions that they were to be back by the ninth hour and to not go too far.

The boys had traveled beyond the sound of the clock-tower that chimed every hour in hopes of finding the excuse to stay out later than had been allotted. But now, they were two children stranded and lost in a frozen hell. A tormenting chill and the unstoppable storm of ice and snow poured from the heavens in apocalyptic proportions for Jacob and Isaac.

Jacob was only seven, a day away from his eighth year on a forbidding, fatal planet. Isaac, Jacob’s older brother, had become what was known at the time as a man at thirteen. They were both blue eyed innocents, bundled up for a short term exposure to the angry, murderous cold. It had been ripping at their exposed faces and eating away at their leaking boots. Their feet had long since gone into that numbing pain that signaled a morbid future for the foot, sans toes.

Jacob and Isaac stumbled forward towards what they hoped would be home hand in hand so as not to lose one another as they had lost their way. The bitter air surrounded them and stabbed at their lungs with a thousand needles. Isaac had long since abandoned his ear-wear to alleviate some of his brother’s suffering and his eyes and ears were burning in retort.

And they were tired, drowsy from all the trudging through nearly two-feet of snow which only grew higher every moment. The children’s pain was only slightly dulled by their stoic half-dreams. In one half of their minds were thoughts and images of their home with a loving mother who would serve them warm soup, a caring father who would start a hot fire to thaw them and a beloved collie that would lick back the life into their toes.

The other halves of the children’s minds lay at the mercy of the environment. Mother-nature had brandished her rapier of freezing temperatures and was thrusting repeatedly at the young brothers, rending all warmth with that spiteful claw of ice.

But by the power of a child-like hope that defies all odds and reason, they pushed on. They were race-horses being forced to their limits by a rider in black robes wielding a scythe made of shredding winds and bitter night.

The hours passed away unnoticed in a journey that took all eternity and constantly suffered an unforgiving, frigid mistress. The world had grown fuzzy for Isaac, and Jacob lost his balance and tumbled forward becoming loose in Isaac’s hand. As he had done many times before, despite the exhaustion, Isaac hoisted Jacob upon his back and carried him, a frozen burden adding to the weight of the icy wolf that had already taken up a residence on Isaac’s back. He was dead from head to toe now, his limbs still moved but they went unfelt. Isaac dreamt the sounds of a bell that may have guided him home and imagined its chime so perfectly that he could actually hear it… “Dong” it sounded once. “Dong” it sounded twice.

He suddenly realized that he had not imagined it, but that the bell was actually nearby. Unable to see far enough in the blizzard and unable to tell which way the din had come from due to his dreamy state, with the warmth of hope of home and a warm hearth blossoming in his chest Isaac made a decision.

He would wait until the bell chimed three. Isaac lay Jacob on the ground and hugged his brother as close to himself as he could. The snow became heavy upon Isaac’s eyelids and he struggled to remain awake, wanting so badly to be at home again. His eyes sank as he shut out the cold. Suddenly Isaac could fee the warm tongue of his dog, the loving arms of his mother and father and the sweet embrace of a bellyful of hot soup. Finally he had been found, they had been found. Jacob was there as well, right next to his heroic brother Isaac. The frozen hand of death had lost its grip on the boys.

Isaac never heard that third bell. Nor had the blizzard any more reason to pursue the boys. Search parties came and went out into that impossible night but it was Isaac’s collie that found him just as the tower rang nine the next day. He was half-buried in a drift of snow, cradling his little brother who would never be eight and smiling at his dreams of heaven, perhaps made real.

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My FictionMy Poetry(Comedy/Bitter)
Explicate! <--Explicative Poetry in need of helpful reviewin

strangedaze

A tormenting chill and the unstoppable storm of ice and snow poured from the heavens in apocalyptic proportions for Jacob and Isaac.

- Maybe a bit too sensationalist, especially the apocalypse reference. If the chill and ice and so on are really that bad, don't tell us, show us. ie: drifts of snow engulfing whole trees, etc.

to the angry, murderous cold.

- Again, angry and murderous are fine but just seem so heavy handed when there isn't a concrete description to accompany them.

towards what they hoped would be home hand in hand

- Word placement here reads as if home was going hand in hand with something. Maybe put hand in hand before 'towards what they hoped would be home'.

Isaac had long since abandoned his ear-wear to alleviate some of his brother’s suffering and his eyes and ears were burning in retort.

- For some reason this sounded really good. What I mean is, the piece has been well written to this point, but this chunk seems perfect. Nice.

drowsy from all the trudging through nearly two-feet of snow which only grew higher every moment.

- Comma before 'which'. You could avert the comma by using 'that', grammatically speaking.

In one half of their minds were thoughts and images of their home with a loving mother who would serve them warm soup, a caring father who would start a hot fire to thaw them and a beloved collie that would lick back the life into their toes.

- Sounds good, dude, might put 'lick the life back into their toes'.

The other halves of the children’s minds lay at the mercy of the environment. Mother-nature had brandished her rapier of freezing temperatures and was thrusting repeatedly at the young brothers, rending all warmth with that spiteful claw of ice.

- Here you demonstrate perhaps too much command of language, too many superfluous words (spiteful) that seem like overkill.

The hours passed away unnoticed in a journey that took all eternity and constantly suffered an unforgiving, frigid mistress.

- You make use of some fantastic personifying metaphors, like this one. You might find sticking with one throughout to be more effective, though.

The world had grown fuzzy for Isaac, and Jacob lost his balance and tumbled forward becoming loose in Isaac’s hand.

- Comma before 'becoming'

He was dead from head to toe now, his limbs still moved but they went unfelt.

- Nice. Nice nice.

He would wait until the bell chimed three. Isaac lay Jacob on the ground and hugged his brother as close to himself as he could. The snow became heavy upon Isaac’s eyelids and he struggled to remain awake, wanting so badly to be at home again. His eyes sank as he shut out the cold. Suddenly Isaac could fee the warm tongue of his dog, the loving arms of his mother and father and the sweet embrace of a bellyful of hot soup. Finally he had been found, they had been found. Jacob was there as well, right next to his heroic brother Isaac. The frozen hand of death had lost its grip on the boys.

Isaac never heard that third bell. Nor had the blizzard any more reason to pursue the boys. Search parties came and went out into that impossible night but it was Isaac’s collie that found him just as the tower rang nine the next day. He was half-buried in a drift of snow, cradling his little brother who would never be eight and smiling at his dreams of heaven, perhaps made real.

- Ah the ending. Few questions. Why wait until three chimes? Second, did Isaac sacrifice himself for his brother, as your final sentence implies? If so, what was the point of the latter part of the second last paragraph? If death had truly lost its grip on the boys, then shouldn't Isaac not have survived?



Okay, overall thoughts about the piece. This was technically well-written, I think, though a bit heavy handed and sensationalist at times. I think that your two main characters are also too faceless, functioning as little more than archetypes of suffering. Why should we care about them? They demonstrate little individuality, save for being the ever-suffering-children. Shake it up a bit - give them life. As it is you have a piece of good writing with a story that does not draw the reader in.

Just a few thoughts on a piece of solid prose that could be made even better with some revisions. Oh, and welcome to our trusty madhouse - I'm sure you'll find yourself quite at home

Cheers.

SD

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His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.