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Riptide
April 14th, 2014, 07:35 AM
THE FOOL

Hat covering his blond hair,
he walks the path not drawn on maps.
The fool's luggage dangles behind him,
as his eyes stare up at the sky.
Endless days ahead of him
the longer he walks this way.
Frail innocence carry him
as his steps nimbly miss the cliff.
His horizon is clear,
mountains pointed up,
white peaked to greatness.
White rose in his hand,
not tinted red,
no danger of a lost youth.
Still not a man.


“Fool! Come get your bag,” his mom called to the boy playing up ahead.

He did not reply, merely grabbed his bag with the stick in his hand. He waved goodbye, snatching a flying kiss his way. An easy smile stretched across his face. Segmented whispers caught in his ear the farther his mom faded past the hill.

“Go to town, my dear boy, west then left, beyond the oak trees embraces.”

His journey had began, one that stemmed miles, so it seemed in his small mind. He walked this hidden path, never straying his gaze from the sun above. The west was bound to be close.

“I need no trail to lead my way,” Fool sung, skipping in the grass at his feet. Closing his eyes, he allowed the sun to heat his tender skin, the breeze to flow his blond locks, the bug's buzzing to go along his melody.

“Ah, boy, a new face for this valley!” A farmer man, tanned through the work of days said, still working ever the more diligently. “This county of farmland has never seen a face so bright, so innocent, almost like a new born son just getting his name.”

Fool knew a question he had in mind, but did the old man have the time? “A moment, oh sweet sir, can I break you from your work?”
“Certainly not my boy. Seven done, one left to go, last one for me to do until the day is up, you see my boy.”

“Ah, yes, but a question from the youth, where's the town riddled in coins?”

“Down yonder thy path, you'll spot the brightening gates. Watch out for the rocks, I hear they're a dangerous might to face.”

Fool tipped his hat back, never forgetting his grin. “All the same, my path is forward no matter where I go. Thank you, sir.”

“But is forward towards the goal?”

But Fool had already gone. The distant mountains grew closer by the moments. White peaks stretching towards the clouds; a background for the town surrounded by leaves covered on trees, which Fool spotted not too far out, passed a few more hills. A grassy path leading the way for Fool, straight to the goal. He followed with a hop step before he stopped to pluck a white rose stuck in the ground, titled down, blocked from the sun.

He nuzzled the rose close, no thorns to cut or scrape his soft hands. Sniffing, he drew back, smiling clearly, he began again his journey.
The sun drifted behind him, but he kept his face on the highest of skies, the blue of his eyes soaking it all in.

A tone of beats flowed in from some space in the town not too far away. The boy started dancing away, twirling to his own created tune to go along with the song. The song wafting from the town of coins, the boy could sense as much. Before he got too far, his foot rested on a cliff edge, not noticing the bottom below. He swung his sack and it hovered above the deadly depths.

Giddily, Fool laughed, taking a step back. His foot missed earth, slipping now as his other foot came close behind. A startled fright from Fool as the ground gave away, and his vision swayed, showing the earth had disappeared from his feet, now flashing by his gaze while he fell, about to land on his backside.

Ari
April 14th, 2014, 10:04 AM
Hi Riptide (:

I can't comment on the poem because... well, I know nothing about poetry. But the story is interesting. Is it a part of something, or is that the end? At first I thought he fell of the cliff, thought he was dead, but when you said that he landed on his backside, nothing sounds serious. It's like there wasn't a real drop there after all.
I like him. Your fool. I think he's sweet, and I didn't want him to die.

The main problem I have with this story is that I can't place it anywhere. I can't imagine his mother or the places where he's walking because I have no frame... I mean, is this fantasy? No one in our world is named Fool. At least, I hope they aren't. (Though at the start you a calling him Fool like it's a name, but then he suddenly becomes The Fool.) You mention a town, but I can't picture it really without a time-frame... if it's modern day, just saying there was a car would really help (:

“Fool! Come get your bag,” the mom called to the boy playing up ahead. - THE mom? Not his mum? And also, is she sending him off somewhere? I don't really get why it started this way... He's playing ahead. Ahead where? Outside?

An easy smile stretched across his face as his mom's face faded in the distance passed the hill. - two a faces too close together... and maybe you mean past the hill?

...the bugs to go along his melody. - not sure what that means...?

... pluck a white rose stuck in the ground up. - I think that 'up' is misplaced. This also give it a really surreal feeling... single, thornless roses don't just hang out on cliff-paths.

... but he kept his face on the wafting sky.... - the wafting sky...? Are you sure? That's an interesting image...

He swung his sack and it hoovered above the deadly depths. - his sack doubles as a vacuum cleaner! ^_^

And... the first question again. Is he dead? :(

Riptide
April 14th, 2014, 02:27 PM
Well, I don't really know if I want to add everything. Yes, I did plan for this to be one of many though.

The name, The Fool, is a tarot card reference, so putting it in the story I didn't want to change it. The Fool as a title and Fool as a name... I should really pick one.
He's supposed to be in the act of falling. I was planning on writing little pieces on all the cards... but that's, I think, 72 cards, all focused on an event, the fool falling maybe.

The place, well... it's not modern if it helps... I'll try to add iit in

thepancreas11
April 14th, 2014, 03:02 PM
Have you ever read the Canterbury Tales? Chaucer did a commentary on the many different types of people he came across, a piece that was written in the perspective of a bunch of different "characters". There is also a movie that I can't remember the name of by Kurosawa...I'm sure someone would know it...where a murder is related from seven different viewpoints. I think you're trying to build something close to that, right? A bunch of different interlocking short tales?

To do that, I think you should consider how each of these cards plays with other cards. I'm sure there are combinations in Tarot that lead to certain "fates" and you might be able to work this kind of connection into these shorts. I do like this introductory snippet, like an exploded poem of sorts. It could use a little more context, a little more plot to it than just a rough explanation of who the character is. Where is he going? What is he doing? I'm just not seeing direction here. You might want to use more specifics. I've noticed a lot of vagueness here.

Give it some direction, give it some reality (some specifics), and then I think more people are apt to read it and give you helpful comments on it. Good stuff Rip. Great idea.

Riptide
April 14th, 2014, 10:15 PM
Yeah, I have. Yep! Something like that. I think I've bettered the plot

30Drummer30
April 15th, 2014, 04:04 AM
The only off thing that stood out to me was the farmer man I feel like man is unneeded. Just feels off but that may just be me. I really liked the passage about the rose.

Nicholas McConnaughay
June 12th, 2014, 08:24 PM
I particularly liked some of the writing, the way that the imagery was described, an interesting read. Thanks for sharing. I wish that I could give you more feedback, but Ari covered a lot of the errors that I noticed. Cheers!