I will be submitting a short story (named "The door") and a poem (named "The candle" or "A leap of faith"). I am not sure if my short story is up to standard. Should I submit it or rewrite it? My main worry is that the twist at the end seems too foreseeable. The short story:
It was my first day at work, and this time I wasn’t going to be using either a shovel or test tubes. Just my brain! I was entering a completely different world, and I had to make a good impression.
So, around a quarter to nine, I went into a bar near my workplace and had a shot of vodka, to calm my nerves and keep my hands from shaking.
I arrived at my brand-new job chewing mint gum. It was my first day. I couldn’t stink.
I looked at my hands again. I was shaking even worse! I felt like a high school kid on his first date, waiting with a flower in his hand.
I can’t be shaking! I told myself anxiously.
I reached into my pocket and took one of Mom’s pills. I chewed it up quickly as I climbed the stairs to the third floor.
The telemarketing center was just one long shitty room with about thirty snot-nosed kids, boys and girls, crammed into it. Each one sold their own product, spoke their own language, and had their own desk.
The big boss handed me over to a smaller boss, a guy about my age. He was supposed to train me, so I kept my mouth shut and my ears open. But there was no need. What he was telling me was very simple. Apparently, for the time being, I didn’t need a computer. He handed me a folder full of lists. Each list had five hundred phone numbers on it. I called, made the offer, and that was it—the person had to buy. Still, if I ran into some cranky guy who didn’t want to buy, I had to convince him.
If I managed to convince him, I had to quickly write down the customer’s information and how much they ordered. If not, I crossed out the phone number in red pen and moved on.
There was a computer on my desk, but it was mostly for decoration. I didn’t even have to plug it in.
All I used was the holy pen and those piles of paper.
“Come on, dial the first number!” he told me kindly.
I put on the headset, moved the microphone a little closer to my lips, and dialed the first number on the list.
He stayed beside me for a few more minutes, then said with a smile, “That’s good! You’re doing better than I did on my first day! Keep going!”
It wasn’t hard. I didn’t even have to think! I had a sales pitch written on a little piece of paper and read it quickly, like a parrot. The person answered; I started reading and... that was it.
“Good morning, ma’am! Please give me one minute of your time! I’d like to tell you about the most revolutionary anti-rheumatic product...” CLICK! “Damn it, she hung up on me!”
“Good morning, sir... Vogel anti-rheumatic cream is made from a traditional, high-quality German formula...” CLICK!
“Good morning! Did you know that...” CLICK! “Jesus Christ! What rude people!”
“Hello! Good morning! With active ingredients derived entirely from carefully selected plants...” CLICK!
“Good morning, ma’am! Could you spare me a second? Yes? Is that possible? Thank you! You may not know this, but Vogel anti-rheumatic cream is recommended for its beneficial effects and, above all, for...” CLICK! “Motherfucker! You said you’d listen to me!”
By around 11, I had about two hundred clicks and not a single sale. Sweat was pouring off me.
And to think that at this hour I used to be loafing around at the water-pumping station! I told myself angrily. Mia, you whore! Look what you’ve done to me!
I secretly took another one of those pills and kept going.
By around 12:30 I didn’t need the paper anymore; I already knew the pitch by heart. I hadn’t made a single sale, but at least I knew what I was selling.
I went out on break and smoked a cigarette, then ran over to the bar and had another shot of vodka. The business world was tough.
At exactly 1:00, I was taking my third pill and, somehow, I was starting to like this job. I felt like I was salesman material, and a sense of satisfaction filled the entire room. The buzz of the operators’ voices never stopped for a second, but I didn’t even notice it anymore. It was just background noise.
The big boss came over and looked over my shoulder.
“How’s it going, junior?” he asked, stroking one sideburn.
“Good!”
“You like it? You have to like it! It’s the greatest job in the world. Selling. You like it?”
“Yeah.”
“Got any orders? Sold anything?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry, young man, don’t get discouraged! It’s only your first day. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to become a real professional!”
And he left. Good thing he did! That sideburned boss of mine was starting to get on my nerves.
It wasn’t good to get worked up. A sales professional never gets angry. That’s what it said in that brochure. I had to calm down fast, so I took another pill. Which one was that? Who the fuck cared?
By around 2:00, I was feeling really good. The people I called weren’t my customers anymore; they were my slaves. They were my puppets. I could make them do whatever I wanted. They weren’t hanging up on me anymore. I hung up on them. Because I was a professional. You can spot a professional on his very first day on the job. That was the secret: you had to be tough!
Around a quarter past two, I was struck by a brilliant idea! I secretly wrote it down on a little piece of paper and quickly slipped it into my breast pocket, right next to my heart.
That idea was pure gold! It was going to revolutionize the art of telephone sales, and it went something like this:
If every 67th call has to be a sale, then...
Please let me know if if there's not enough "show don't tell", too repetitive, too bland, or anything I can improve really. The genre is sci fi adventure.
Chapter 1
It's just all so beautiful. The colorful planets, the bright distant stars, and whatever else that fills the void in between has never failed to fill Didi's mind with imagination. It had been months since he had become the apprentice of the time warden, but the only good thing that came out of it was just how much free time Didi has to wander about. Perhaps that was not entirely true, he thought. Being a student to an allpowerful time god has its other perks. Like not needing a spacesuit, and being able to breathe in the vacuum of space.
Here he was, floating about with his hands behind his head and legs crossed, as if he was napping on a hammock by the beach instead of an empty space by a massive, glowing ball of hot plasma. Except he wasn't napping; he was admiring the view. In this particular system, a most peculiar planet spun slowly before him: a star-shaped body about the same size as Earth. Instead of blues and greens, it bore a distinct yellow and purple hue. It had a moon, about half the size of Earth's, but it was a bright pretty pink and looked closer in shape to an egg. The pair looked quite romantic to Didi, as the star-shaped planet and its moon were the only things orbiting their sun.
At last, Didi straightened his legs, stretched his arms, and decided that today was going to be a change of pace.
"Do not involve yourself to the affairs of the planet dwellers," He recalled his master's warnings, "Their concerns are nothing to the grand scheme of things. Our duty far surpasses their trivial matters."
Just this one time, he thought. He had been a good boy and did nothing but observe the planets and stars that teased him as he floated away from afar, all the while the great time warden had done nothing but yap the rules of this and that at him. He's done with holding his urges back, now's the time to explore! He readjusted the red flat cap that sat on top of his chestnut brown hair, and opened his brown leather aviator jacket revealing his literal hourglass body. The sand that lay still in the top section of the glass began to drop, bit by bit, into the one below. Didi snapped his fingers, and mechanical bits and parts emerged from the void. One by one, they snapped and locked together until an old-fashioned biplane- similar in design to the one the Wright brothers flew oh so long ago- took shape. Didi hopped on to the plane enthusiastically, grinning all the while, and steered his plane straight toward the star-shaped planet.
On the east side of Kuzuoka, spring arrived with a twisted grin as petals heaved in the wind to nestle into cracked roof tiles and gutter sludge. Their fragrance was sweet at first before it reeked like blossom honey soured by garbage, mildew, and rice left to die in pots. Cold were the stones the villagers used to pray upon, steeped in the taste of rusted water and the spoilt broth they could only dream of having. The drafty lanes brushed the bony napes of elders who wouldn’t trade their malady for eternity just to spite the gods who sculpted their fates.
Houses loomed like disgraced swordsmen with their beams scarred, their shōji rattling in uneven frames while their roofs sagged heavily under the weight of silent years. Tatami mats within exhaled dust and silt with every single step as the whole village moved as one weary body that was still upright and breathing, simply waiting for the exact moment it could collapse and call that final fall a blessing.
And yet, not far from the town, barefoot children splashed in the carnation-coloured creek, but their laughter remained bright and unbothered against floating debris or morsels that no one would ever care to ask about. Mud gripped their legs while they daydreamed away the noon, shaping the dirt into play-food sushi and rice balls in a quiet yearning for a tomorrow that was taken right from their hands by the Shogun’s paranoia.
Further down, a stray breeze passed straight through the man slouched by the stream, finding him draped in a kosode that looked like it had survived a fire. He sat on a crooked bamboo stool that creaked under his weight, his spine bent just enough to suggest he no longer cared if it broke while his left hand rested lazily on a scabbard worn to the grain. He looked to be in his late twenties, or perhaps his early thirties if life had been crueler. His face bearing only the stillness of indifference while his eyes did not carry peace but a silent warning and a prejudice against anyone who might dare disturb him. His gaze was not at the stream, but at his own reflection on the blade he held, newly sharpened presenting a clean, untouched edge that remained entirely unlike him.
“Shigure, old friend,” he muttered, eye to eye with his warped silhouette in the steel, “we’ve known each other since the Grand Master handed you to me, but still don’t understand how you are reforged after each kill.” His voice held the weight of a man accusing the divine of favoritism with no real hope for an answer. “If you rust,” he said, thumbing the flat of the blade, “flesh and bone will polish you clean like wiping a lifetime to stain it with a new one.” A pause settled while the reeds rustled and the rooftops creaked. “Ever heard of the souls’ gate?” His fingers slackened. “It’s supposed to take you back to when you were just a lump of nameless ore without purpose or price, giving you another chance, but that’s totally far-fetched.” The silence listened, and he knew that was worse.
But another one replied, or rather, another blade as a spear pierced the stinking air, humming as it hurtled straight toward the back of his skull. His head swerved instantly while his instinct snapped right into place as if he had grown a new eye where no trust remained. The spear screamed past and crashed into the stream, sending up a brilliant burst of silver water. His fingers closed tightly around Shigure. His eyes flicked back with a sharp, precise movement looking exactly like a wolf catching a fresh scent as he scanned the tree line behind him as his eyebrows knitted into one. Whoever threw that weapon had just asked to be found. His gaze locked and landed on a figure standing at the edge of the woods.
The intruder stood at the tree line, grinning like a boy who had broken something expensive and knew no one could stop him. It was Agiyo, with his eyes half-lidded beneath thick brows, mischief boiling behind his smug face. His laugh rang out high and careless as he shook his wavy hair, which was long on top with the sides cropped clean, leaving a single braid trailing down his back like a punctuation mark. “Not bad for someone who vanished two years,” he called out with a voice that was as harsh as a slap, “I cannot believe you wanted to quit.” With a smirk, he flicked the braid over his shoulder and raised his sword, “You still got the reflex, aniki.” The blade was monstrous, being longer than his torso and thick at the spine, his light tan shimmering beside the metal as both boy and steel boasted in the exact same breath.
This snot-nosed brat... what the hell is he thinking? The man squinted as he realized the boy had grown, becoming broader now and standing nearly his own height. But that arrogant face... heavens, it hurts my brain, he thought. With a heavy sigh like a man trying to snap his brother out of a deep delusion, he raised Shigure and pointed the tip straight at the boy. “Come on, then,” he said, “show me something I don’t already know.” The man shifted his blade to the side and hunched low with his eyes narrowing as both men fell into the waiting game.
Patience wins wars, and those who do not possess it will pay dearly, which was proven when a twig cracked beneath a heavy step. Agiyo lunged forward without a second thought, or even a drop of grace in his movement, sprinting like a hurled boulder finding its way to a pit. His blade whipped through the air in wild arcs targeting the neck first, then the torso and legs, each strike sweeping fast and imprecise while brimming with boyish spite. “Gale of the Mad Wolf, huh?” Agiyo scoffed between swings, “Fitting name. Too bad you wrapped your tail between your legs!”
The man moved like mist, slipping effortlessly past the edge of every blow while his spine folded and his wooden sandals skimmed over the packed dirt, his own blade never once needing to clash. He was not dodging but just merely remembering a deep memory of what used to be, the life he desperately buried with him.
Agiyo spun in a fierce, full-circle blur of motion, driving his blade low toward the gut, but the Wolf caught the strike as steel resounded loudly when both edges met. He stopped Agiyo's heavy blade with just one hand at a single precise angle. His feet remained completely rooted to the dirt as if he had seen the attack coming since before the boy was even born. “Honey Badger,” the man muttered while still holding the clash as his arm absorbed the immense weight of the blow, “stronger… but still foolish.” His blade swept upward in a clean counter that forced Agiyo back a single step, which was just enough space before the roundhouse landed with a destructive thump. The sudden impact felt like a shock of lightning made of bone and heel shot through his lower chest.
The badger dropped heavily to a knee while clutching his ribs with his breath completely punched out of him as his master extended the tip of his blade to his throat. “You’ve been my apprentice since you were eight,” he said flatly, “and you’ve learned absolutely nothing?” His voice was dry and almost mocking, his expression entirely drained of interest as this was not a duel, but a correction.
The apprentice pierced his blade against the ground, jarring the dirt as he used it like a cane to mimic an old man rising from a collapse. Then he laughed loud and amused like a badger who had just watched a thief steal his food and found it completely hilarious. With a single shove, he knocked aside the blade still hovering at his throat, “I’ve been watching,” while a wide grin split his face before he suddenly vanished, quick as he dematerialized entirely like the gusts rolling off the nearby stream.
The man’s eyes widened as he recognized that exact move, realizing the boy had learned it straight from him. Behind?— a sudden blur erupted from the corner of his vision as his apprentice’s massive blade came screaming directly toward his skull. The world slowed down for the Wolf as the razor edge shimmered, a question flashed through his mind: How did he... am I too late? but a sudden scream violently shattered the moment. Agiyo vanished again, just not in the way he had originally planned as he tripped when one foot tangled in a thick root while the other completely betrayed him. His own blade, which had been a symbol of glory, slapped flat against his forehead with a humiliating thwack before collapsing hard into a heap.
Silence settled over the stream as even the birds paused before a low, aching groan broke the quiet, “Not again,” while Agiyo sat up with one eye squinting through the rising dust, his face red not from the hit, but from pure, boiling shame that felt hot enough to cook a mochi bun. “Just like old times, huh, aniki?” he muttered while rubbing his head.
The Wolf only exhaled not as a sigh of relief but a loud thought that meant do not push it, his lips twitched barely, revealing the kind of almost-smile that shows up only when someone else’s pride dies flat-faced. Agiyo laughed breathlessly, scratching his head and stomach like a kid who had just dodged a punishment.
The man turned to pull a bamboo stick straight from the dirt and offered it with a steady motion that confused Agiyo before he took it. “You used to knock me out after I fell,” he muttered, letting the stick pull him upright, adding, “has the hiatus softened the great mad Wolf?”
“Spare me the nonsense, kid,” the man replied, his eyes meeting his with a steady gaze while his voice sharpened as he repeated, “I know, this is not just a reunion.” The wind recoiled, sensing it had no place in the aftermath as their eyes locked like two suns about to collide on the same axis, threatening to unleash a long-forgotten wrath, “What do you want?” the Wolf rasped in wondrous suspicion. Agiyo’s expression shifted, not softening, but surrendering, as the arrogance drained from his face with no trace of fear remaining, leaving only the face of someone who had finally accepted that the next word might change everything or end it completely, but before he could answer—
“Papa! Is that Badger nii-san?!” a high-pitched voice rang out from the fields just nearby the creek, sounding as bright as wind chimes in summer. The men turned to the two figures approaching across the path, where a girl, maybe nine, was carrying a smaller boy on her back. Momo clung tightly with arms wrapped around Kumi’s shoulders like vines, his eyes white as snow and entirely spotless, staring ahead without seeing because the boy had never known light or darkness, he could only hear them.
“Yeah, Badger nii-san is here!” Agiyo’s voice rose, sounding uneven as if it were chasing a feeling rather than expressing one. A strange sense of melancholy bled directly into his words though he did not fully understand why, his smile coming a beat late and soft around the edges like something from childhood kept in a box he had not opened in years. “These kids grow like bamboo,” he said half-joking while glancing over at the Wolf, before he raised a hand to wave toward Kumi and asked, “they were as small as peas when you adopted them from father’s orphan shelter, right, aniki?”Agiyo scratched the back of his neck with his smile remaining lopsided as if it were not sure it had permission to be there, before he muttered, “I like them, but let’s be honest, they’ll slow you down. A huge liability or maybe even bait if someone’s feeling clever.”
The moment darkened like someone had yanked the daylight straight from the sky, forcing his tone to shift right before his reply, “He’ll never see me, nor will she ever hear me, but I am seen and heard through them.” His gaze fell to his children with his eyes appearing distant, “My soul is theirs, and if anyone tries to take them, I will flay them slow enough to make even you turn your head away.”
The children arrived, smiling through snot-laden faces as their sodden kimonos, which looked just slightly better than their father’s, rustled with each step while their bare feet thudded on the packed dirt as they got closer. Agiyo leaned forward and dropped to a knee, patting both of their heads while pulling the treats from his bag as he grinned, “Here’s mochi and bread for my two favorite puppies!”
“Thank you, nii-san!” Momo beamed, before he turned to his sister and shouted, “You’re the best, right, Kumi?!” There was no answer from the girl, who only offered a wide smile in return, everyone laughed as the moment remained light and full. Everyone except the Wolf stood amused as he stepped forward and placed a gentle, deliberate hand on Kumi’s shoulder looking directly into her eyes.
Then, his fingers moved like breath over water, slow and clear as he signed to his daughter, “Go. Play. I have something important to do.”
“You better not leave us again, Papa,” Kumi’s small hands weaved back, her eyes widening instantly as she stared up at him.
He nodded once with the kind of look that meant I won't. The girl watched him for a brief moment searching his face before turning away with an assured expression. She believed him, completely trusting that her father would not let them down, and just like that, she carried her brother back toward the stream where other children played, entirely unaware of the quiet things being said in the shadows.
---
Beyond the stream, the grassy lanes were swarmed by crows filling their gizzards with the remains of the dead, making it entirely impossible to tell if the rotting flesh belonged to fallen beasts or to the villagers themselves. The acrid stench made both men on horseback furrow their brows as they crossed to the far side of town, their eyes sweeping the road for the only sakaba still standing where they used to pass their time.
Just ahead, around thirty men who seemed like hired ronins lingered outside the place, clad in mismatched armor that formed a patchwork of iron plate and faded cloth scavenged from too many corpses to count. Weapons hung low at their sides with some paired with short blades, their hilts wrapped in frayed silk and their scabbards blackened with time and blood. Neither of the two spoke about what they were witnessing, but their eyes moved side to side as they observed the mercenaries before dismounting near the well. The Wolf sensed danger and so did the Badger, but they simply let the reins hang loose to give the animals a chance to quench their thirst under a patch of shade from the gentle spring sun. They both locked eyes and nodded downwards as if saying come on. They stepped into the sakaba where the silence inside was gentler than the chaos in most towns where army raids spread rapidly. The mats softened every single step while low tables lined the floor, waiting to catch heavy thoughts or spilled sake.
Near the counter, the sakaba owner sat with Lord Kozuki, who was the ruthless aristocrat owning both the land and the small army stationed outside. Both middle-aged men remained far too still with their bodies awkwardly tensed as the establishment owner’s jaw clenched between words. Kozuki leaned back with crossed arms in a calculating manner, their voices stayed low while their sharp gestures made it entirely clear that a demand had been met with a firm refusal and that both men were now locked in a stubborn stalemate.
Behind the counter, the barmaid Hinagi watched. She was poised in a faded pink kimono, moving with a rare grace that stood out completely in the quiet room. Her hair hung loose and neat just brushing the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes remained sharp as they missed absolutely nothing, hiding in a motion of wiping glasses that were already completely spotless.
This was the place for real talk. The Wolf and the Badger took the nearest table by the door, keeping their backs close to the shadow.“This place hasn’t changed,” Agiyo whispered, leaning in, “well… maybe except for the gorgeous barmaid.” He glanced toward the counter just as Hinagi approached, carrying a tray heavy with food and sake. Her steps were carefully measured and controlled, ensuring that she would not spill a single drop in front of Lord Kozuki and the owner, who remained locked in their stiff conversation.
Who’s that man Aniki’s talking to? she wondered, for it was the first time she had seen him. Just then, Agiyo looked up, and their eyes met like spring light falling where it hadn’t reached in years. “Here are your drinks,” Hinagi said demurely, smiling as she lowered the tray, then tucked her hands to her knees with a small bow. “Just let me know if you need anything else.” Agiyo turned red, the words catching instantly in his throat, and he gave a stiff, awkward nod before he managed a quiet, “Thanks.” Hinagi straightened, suppressing a grin. Pretty boy. Dumb face. And that braid, it looks like he trims it with a spoon. She turned away before the amusement could ever show on her face.
“Badger.” The word came low, like gravel dragged on a bedrock.
Agiyo flinched, his eyes snapping back from Hinagi’s retreating silhouette.
“Focus.” Wolf’s voice intensified.
Agiyo sat up straighter, one hand brushing his braid as if it had just been betrayed. His cheeks remained warm, but his features hardened, and his posture stiffened into a rigid line. “Right,” he muttered. He drained the sake in a single gulp, plunging straight into business. “Grand master Snake knows I’m the only one who can reach you without losing his head.” He reached deep into his satchel, his rough fingers closing around parchment. “Here. A letter from him.”
The Wolf picked it up without a word. He read it slowly, once and then again. By the final line, his calm cracked, and a vein pulsed at his temple. “This is impossible…” He crumpled the parchment in a single hand, his grip turning white. “Did Owl approve of this?”
Agiyo grinned like a man too proud to understand fear. “Impossible? Sure, if I wasn’t on your team.” He tore directly into a grilled turkey leg, his voice muffled through the grease and meat. “And your questions are useless. He’s the clan leader, there's nothing much of a choice for you here.” He swallowed hard, giving a casual shrug. “Besides, yes, Father already approved and talked him into letting me tag along.”
The man remained silent, the air turning ice-cold between them. His hand shot out, gripping Agiyo’s collar in a single motion. “You think this is a game?” The Wolf kept his voice strictly level, his words hitting harder than an outright shout. “This is the first pillar’s decree, that’s a suicide mission.” A ragged breath broke at the edges of his teeth. “And they’re holding someone for leverage, and I don’t even know who yet.” He stared directly into Agiyo’s face, his eyes demanding an answer. “For once, stop being a kid.”
Hinagi’s eyes widened as she sensed something was deeply wrong across the room. Lord Kozuki and the innkeeper remained entirely oblivious, far too consumed with trading their own hushed barbs.
Agiyo slapped the Wolf’s hand away, shifting his weight heavily on the tatami. “It’s your fault!” He leaned forward with his knees grounded, pressing his left hand against the floor for balance while jabbing his right index finger squarely at his teacher’s forehead. “You told him you wanted out. You broke the sacred oath!” A sharp breath caught, bringing a distinct crack to his voice. “I thought I was the dumb one, aniki?!”
The Wolf clenched his fists as a heavy feeling stuck in his throat, sharp as a fishbone made of shame. He couldn't spit it out, nor could he argue; Agiyo was completely right. His mind raced frantically, scanning the faces of everyone he couldn't bear to lose, desperately cycling through the children and even the idiot sitting right across from him. Then who?
“I’ll do it alone.” He reached for the sake bottle, gulping the remaining liquid down as if it owed him answers. “You’re not cut out for this. You took two missions of this caliber, and you nearly died both times.”
Agiyo looked away, his eyes drifting toward the window as he processed the harsh truth of his master's words.
Then, a violent SLAM shattered the room. Two massive hands struck the table, rattling the wood like thunder as tea spilled, the sake bottle shattered, and food scattered across the floor. Lord Kozuki stood towering over the mess, his face twisted in absolute fury. “Is this all of it?!” He hurled a heavy pouch of silver straight into the innkeeper’s face. The old man stumbled backward and fell, his eyes wide and palms raised as he cowered on the floor, staring up at Kozuki. The lord was a mountain of a man, bald on top with the remainder of his hair pulled into a knot like coiled rope. His eyes matched the sharp shape of his wrath, thin and cutting. “This town’s a year behind on taxes,” Kozuki snarled, his voice striking the room like a hammer. “Might as well turn it into farmland.”
The Wolf and the Badger didn’t look. They listened, waiting for something to whisper to their swords.
“Yes… a farm,” the lord muttered, pacing forward slowly toward the counter, toward Hinagi. The air grew heavy and oppressive like a cauldron on the verge of boiling over while holding in the scream. She stood frozen behind the bar with her breath shallow as Kozuki drew a dagger and ran the cold edge along her cheek. “And look what we have here,” Kozuki sneered, baring his crooked teeth. “You look like you could be a hefty piece of collateral.” The metal stayed shallow, keeping just close enough to promise absolute ruin. “You will serve as a hostess in the capital to pay off all these debts. Of course, that's after I burn this sakaba down, and maybe the rest of this town along with it.”
She didn’t have time to flinch even if she wanted to. Her eyes held fear, but a distinct fire burned within them too, her hand slowly reaching behind her back as her fingers closed tightly around a hidden kitchen knife.
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
i'm just trying to improve my prose. bcz prose are pretty darn confusing
Hi. I’m looking for some feedback on this specific passage, particularly on the dialogue, which is not my strongest suit. I would also like to have an external reader look at it and tell me what their perception is and what they think I’m trying to convey. I’m trying to imply a couple things but I don’t want them to be too obvious, and I’d like to know what readers would infer from this passage. General feedback is always welcomed as well. Thanks!
Here’s the passage:
The Old House
A cricket is a medium-sized, cylinder-shaped leaping insect with thread-like antennae, six legs built for jumping and a distinctive chirping sound. My dad used to say that it is more scared of me than I should be of it. I don’t know if I can agree with that anymore.
My childhood house gave onto far-stretching fields with untamed hedges and large stone pine trees I used to climb. Inside, our home was rustic but quite spacious: it had two bedrooms, one for me and the other one where my parents used to sleep; a kitchen with terracotta tile floors; a moodier, vintage studio; and a large living room illuminated by stained-glass windows.
I remember spending all day nestled in dirt and leaves, looking for worms and insects of all sorts. I was quite cruel to them, too: I would tie their tiny legs to wood sticks with grass blades and use them to scare friends off when playing.
Our cat, Missy, was a slim, black and white European shorthair that mom jokingly used to call ugly because of her sprinkled white spots. She said it made her look like a cow. I always thought they were part of her charm. Her collar had a small bell attached to it. I remember that light tinkle sound so well that sometimes I still hear it in moments of silence. I was really fond of that cat.
Today I can’t hear Missy’s bell in that house anymore. But I still find the house as it was when I visit it. Dad greets me with a crumpled bag of chips.
‘’They’re tomato flavored. I know you love those.’’
He hands me the bag and I start fidgeting.
‘’Thank you. How’s your garden coming along?”
“Not too well. I still have to start working on it for the spring. But I have been pretty busy with all the house maintenance.”
I peek through the stained windows. On the other side, right next to the rusty storage shed that seems to have been left untouched for a while, a frost-nipped patch of grass is moving along with the wind. It looks barren.
I frown and turn back to dad.
“I see… Anything new? Have you heard from mom?’’
“She is being grumpy as usual. She won’t respond to my calls. I think she’s doing fine though.” He says with a smile. I wonder if mom has kept in touch like she used to years ago.
The last brown strands of dad’s hair are fading to grey.
‘’Are you still working on fixing your car?’’
‘’She is a little rusty, but she still is running well. I haven’t used it much lately…’’
He looks happy that I’ve asked him about it.
‘’Want to take a walk by the beach then?’’ I ask.
‘’Sure. We haven’t done that in ages.’’
The shore is only a ten-minute drive from dad’s, but it feels way longer. All I hear is the rattling sound of the old engine pounding in my ears. My hand rests outside of the window casually while I enjoy the sight of green and blue under the fading light of the day. Dad drives in silence, but there is always a light in his eyes that makes me feel at peace.
A couple minutes fly by and we are already walking on sand. Other than us there are some elderly couples and a few people walking their dogs.
“I came here the other day and it wasn’t this dirty.” dad says as he crinkles his nose.
I laugh.
“Must be me then. I always find it like this.” I say.
“Could be. Maybe it’s your punishment for not keeping in touch.” There’s some teasing in his tone, but also a pinch of bitterness.
“I know dad, you’re right. I have been so busy lately…” I answer in a low voice.
I hope to sound convincing, but I know that my dad is hardly fooled.
“If you say so. I wonder if you didn’t have the time to call your mother either.”
I just stay quiet for a while. The sun is peeking at us through the sea line.
“Anyway, tell me a little bit about what you have been up to. Are you still living in a pigsty?”
“No. I have gotten more organized over the years.” I respond, irritated.
“I sure hope so. Haven’t you just moved to that new place in midtown?”
“That was three years ago”.
“Oh…are you sure? I thought…my bad. When did you visit me last?”
“A few months ago.”
My feet bump into a rock and it feels sharp and painful. Dad doesn’t say anything for a while. His head is slightly bent downwards, his face creased with thought. There is something about his expression that looks different than the last time I saw him, but I’m not sure what it is. And then a moment later it’s gone and he is talking again.
“I know you’ve had a heavy workload lately, but I want to make sure you are okay. Is there something else bothering you?”
I know my dad is uncomfortable because he never asks these kinds of questions. And that catches me off guard.
“No, no. I’m fine. I’m mainly working. Why are you asking?”
‘’Are you getting along with colleagues at school?”
“They’re okay. I’m friends with a couple of them. We chat during coffee breaks.”
I’m lying: I don’t really care about any of them. Everyone seems so boring.
“That’s good to hear. I don’t like how crammed New York is. Too many weirdos roaming the streets. But I’m glad it’s working out for you.”
“I know. I mean I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not my favorite either. But I have my program there, and where else would I go?”
“You know you can always come back here. We can find you a spot at the local market.” he says as he winks at me. I chuckle.
“I wish.” I answer jokingly. “Could be like one of those silly Christmas movies.”
“I always said you’d be a great actress.”
The light is almost gone now.