Carpet Battlefields - Writers Forum

Miscreant · 07-06-2006, 10:20 PM

Not preachy, just an analysis. Enjoy and comment please.

Our childhoods are precious times full of memories, and toys. Oh, the toys, bane of the parents' wallet and savory delight of the younger. I, for one, always had to have a new toy every time it was time for a trip to the mall or the local Super Kmart. By my thirteenth birthday, I came to possess a colossal collection of the things, so that twelve yard sales couldn't make them disappear altogether.

It never was the toys with their specific functions or special noises that made them so desirable. It was the tiny battlefields I could build in my head, where immobile plastic soldiers would become fighting machines, sent into massive battles by the hundreds, that made them special. General Selzer, as unimaginitive as his painted fatigues would portray him to be, with a jolly fat face and mute expression, would issue commands and order airstrikes. For hours, two sides of opposable strength, consisting of vehicles and soldiers as varied as Batman and the Millenium Falcon would wage tumultuous war on carpet battlefields, and my mind would race with unparalleled glee as entire battleships were sunk, or heroes died valiantly in the fray.

At the end, if there ever was one, the heroes would be awarded and great commanders honorably discharged for their valiant service. Now that I look at them, as stoic and unimaginitive as the day the were birthed on some Toyco production line, I feel each of them had a purpose without really ever having been assigned one.
Toy designers must not see how children really use their toys. They only see that it's cool that Batman can fly, and so they put him in a locked position of flight. The extent of their contract has been met, they are not further obliged to dream. But, when I would see such a toy, I would see a flying bomber, a striker from the skies, an eligible candidate for Barbie romancing during R&R. I would feel a connection with a thing that was un-living and un-dead, alight in a middling state of paradox that required a little creativity to truly come to life.

I'm sixteen now. I go through the remnants of buckets of hardened warriors whenever I get the chance to visit their resting place, back in the time capsule that is my father's home. I touch one, and I will sit and look at it and remember who it had been, and might just speak a word to it, one of longing and distance, but with comfort. The toy will look back at me with placid eyes, and I will know that it had served its purpose in countless battles, during frigid winter months when all I had to keep myself occupied was a few action figures and an imagination. It's all a child would ever need.

RachelA · 07-06-2006, 11:10 PM

A well-written look at the past which tugs at the sentimentality strings

An interesting look at the power of a child's imagination, although I'm not sure I agree with the last sentence, sorry, and think it ruins the piece. I enjoyed reading this though.

Hakeem · 07-07-2006, 05:02 AM

It is a very nice short story. I liked it all, especially the ending where I find touching.. It actually reminded me of myself and my tiny toys which kept company during my early years.

Try to fix the use of commas in the first few lines in the second paragraph.

Again, it's a very good piece and filled with apparent emotion.

Miscreant · 07-12-2006, 08:18 PM

Thank you, Hakeem and Rachel A. I'll make corrections.

aliceedelweiss · 07-12-2006, 09:29 PM

Very well written! I really enjoyed this, it completely captures child hood toys. You have a very good voice, an intriguing one. I will say, your voice really kept me reading.

Quote:

as stoic and unimaginitive as the day the were birthed on some Toyco production line

The third 'i' should be an 'a' ; they.

Otherwise I found no errors and have nothing to complain about. bravo and hurray for batman!

Alice

Miscreant · 07-13-2006, 09:43 PM

Thank you very much, and I'll make corrections accordingly.

Sasha Greenwood · 07-15-2006, 10:51 PM

I really enjoyed this. Ah, so nostalgic. It was really well written. I don't have anything productive to say, though. Sorry. I though it was worth reading, your lead-in captured me and I really liked your style.

Crepuscular · 07-16-2006, 04:38 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Miscreant

Not preachy, just an analysis. Enjoy and comment please.

Our childhoods are precious times full of memories, and toys. Oh, the toys, bane of the parents' wallet and savory delight of the younger. I, for one, always had to have a new toy every time it was time ('every time it was time' is repetitive. Change to 'had to have a new toy every time we made a trip to the mall or the local Super Kmart.') for a trip to the mall or the local Super Kmart. By my thirteenth birthday, I came to possess a colossal collection of the things, so that twelve yard sales couldn't make them disappear altogether.

It never was the toys with their specific functions or special noises that made them so desirable. It was the tiny battlefields I could build in my head, where immobile plastic soldiers would become fighting machines, sent into massive battles by the hundreds, that made them special. General Selzer, as unimaginitive as his painted fatigues would portray him to be, with a jolly fat face and mute expression, would issue commands and order airstrikes. For hours, two sides of opposable strength, consisting of vehicles and soldiers as varied as Batman and the Millenium Falcon, (comma) would wage tumultuous war on carpet battlefields. (period) and (remove 'and', start new sentence) My mind would race with unparalleled glee as entire battleships were sunk, or heroes died valiantly in the fray.

At the end, if there ever was one (were any?), the heroes would be awarded and great commanders honorably discharged for their valiant service. Now that I look at them, as stoic and unimaginitive (used the word unimaginitive twice in this short piece. I'd change one of the two.) as the day the(y)were birthed on some Toyco production line, I feel each of them had a purpose without really ever having been assigned one.

Toy designers must not see how children really use their toys. They only see that it's cool that Batman can fly, and so they put him in a locked position of flight. The extent of their contract has been met, they are not further obliged to dream. But, when I would see such a toy, I would see a flying bomber, a striker from the skies, an eligible candidate for Barbie romancing during R&R. I would feel a connection with a thing that was un-living and un-dead, alight in a middling state of paradox that required a little creativity to truly come to life.

I'm sixteen now. I go through the remnants of buckets of hardened warriors whenever I get the chance to visit their resting place, back in the time capsule that is my father's home. I touch one, and I will sit and look at it and remember who it had been, and might just speak a word to it, one of longing and distance, but with comfort. The toy will look back at me with placid eyes, and I will know that it had served its purpose in countless battles, during frigid winter months when all I had to keep myself occupied was a few action figures and an imagination. It's all a child would ever need.

I love this piece. So touching. The writing is excellent. Hardly anything to change. You really captured the emotions towards toys so wonderfully. It's sad and beautiful at the same time. You need not worry about it coming off as preachy; couldn't be further from the truth. 'Carpet Battlefields' is a great title as well.

Are you really 16? If so, I'm shocked.

Miscreant · 07-16-2006, 07:58 PM

TY very much, and yes, I am 16. I'll make your suggested changes.

Min Min Light · 07-16-2006, 09:21 PM

The mistakes were few and have already been pointed out, so I can't comment on that. I don't know; the story itself seemed like an essay, which is at all not to say I didn't like it. I loved it. It struck a chord with me and the thousands of characters I'd invented and forgotten while playing with toys.