✨Prose Rating✨[624 words]
Lin ambled toward the lookout tree, where Lily idly sat. He sat beneath the tree.
“Is there anyone?”
Leisurely, he brought his gaze to meet hers, up among the withered branches. She shook her head, as though trying to stamp out the embers within her mind.
He remembered the stories his father had told him. Their people beating the great Chola, the whites beating the Nazis. The promise of white flowers springing out from the thickest of muck. Was Lin too naïve to believe, or were the sacrifices made too little?
“He’s a smartass; he’ll make anything work.”
He heard the words repeat. The words Vox had said to lighten her worries. Words that betrayed him.
Vox’s mouth ripped open, glass shards embedded in his tongue. His eyes bleached out by the UPA. A lingering image of the slaughtered corpse flickered.
Lin covered his mouth, squeezing his lips tighter as he felt the stomach acid reaching his throat. Why did I put him on the edge? Why did I make the move in the first place?
He slammed his fist on the ground. Repeatedly.
If it’s just a sick prank, he’ll come here laughing, crawling out of the forest, and then we’ll fight.
He gazed at his fist and saw blood leaking from his knuckles.
I should have listened. Stopped.
He turned his gaze back to her. Was she waiting for him to come back? She looked out at the horizon, her amber eyes flickering in the setting sun, burning. Unlike mine, they were hollow.
She reminded him of Izzy and Lily’s own mother. Stronger than he was. Kinder than the gods who watched them. Pure as bright silver, silver that the ravens had taken away. Yet they died like animals.
Lin stood up, gazing away from the sun. If he stopped now, could he leave it all behind? What was the point of it all? He had the clues and had figured out where the UPA head lived, though it might be a trap.
They all lived inside her. Her gifts, her blood. Yet she kept following, and the others followed him like he was a godforsaken compass. Thirteen of us came, and six are left.
Are they watching us from the stars? Then why didn’t they save Vox?
Lily and Vox were the best climbers; both could scale a tree in less than ten seconds. If Lily had been on the edge instead of Vox—
His stomach twisted. He stumbled as his legs grew weak.
Lily’s mouth was gashed open. Glass shards embedded. Her eyes bleached out. What would the devils have done if they had gotten their hands on her? From behind him came the scrape of the withered tree as she climbed down. He quickly steadied his footing.
“I’ll check the east,” she said, walking past him. The last of the sunlight met her dark hair.
“Lily,” he said in a breaking voice. “We need to talk. The plan—"
“The fuck.” She said slow. “Is wrong with you? Vox’s dead. Mill’s dead. We. we can’t,” she said, not turning to face him.
“I know.” Lily glanced over, her eyes watery.
“We just need to talk.” He pointed toward the half-broken mud hut, plants springing from its walls.
She ambled forward in front of him, a snowflake against the fires, now melted beyond the point of recognition. With every step he took, his heart withered further. His hands shook. Tears flowed down his cheeks as they neared the broken hut.
As she went inside, gazing at the night sky, perhaps trying to find their voices, he grabbed a metal pole beside the grassy walls.
He gritted his teeth, biting down his whimper.
She would only follow if she could move.
critique my prose. and i want to clarify few points
- do i use too much metaphors or imagery?
- do you feel anything?
- are the characters logical?
i'm just trying to improve my prose. bcz prose are pretty darn confusing