Young Writers Society

Fire and ice coinciding simultaneously. If you weren't in an area whiter than the pale horse, and colder than it's tiny ice ridden heart you were faced with tremendous tongues of flame, licking every inch of ground they could reach. The two should not be able to coexist, but here ever small detail of life you ever moaned about, cursed or thoroughly despised follows you around like a black cloud hanging above you, separating you from the sky. If I were to describe it as anything I would say Hell, but that doesn't particularly answer your question. I cannot say how much land it covers for I have walked miles in this desolate place and never reached the edge. I cannot tell you how high or low it travels for a lot of the time I walk with my eyes closed to avert some of the horrors laid out before me. No-one can escape the sounds though, constant screams, roaring fire, cracking ice, booming footsteps and more screams.

The elements missing here are the ones you need, crave and beg for eventually. Air and Earth, taken for granted where I used to be. In this dungeon of fire all the air is stripped fro your lungs, all the earth burnt until there can be none left at all. The ice is like a cold dead heart to the castle of fire, somehow keeping the flames alive. And it's lonely, always lonely. Ever so vast is this place that you hardly ever meet another soul, and when you do you see yourself. You when you first came here, scared, alone tormented and lost. You when you realized there is no way back, no way out only forward for all of time. You when you first come across the bridge, a place that beckons you in and draws you near from the start. Walking across, over all the fallen souls, slipping in their blood and tripping over their entrails because you alone think you can make it, you know you can do better than them and reach the sunlight so cruelly creeping through an icy wall. And finally you, when you fail, over and over to reach your goal and the crows feast on your tired body and the flames dance around your head and the icicles laugh as they melt, dripping water just out of reach.

When it's all over you wake to find you have been put back together only to go through more torture somewhere else. In a pit, a darkened room, underwater Hell my friend, Hell is what you make of it. The underworld runs under, over and besides life. Flashing you constant images of where you could be but are not. Hell is inside your head and everywhere you go, every inch of molten rock you touch has been tainted. The fire is his tongue and the ice are his eyes. Hell my friend is the rock solid belly of the beast which you are trapped in, condemned to live in the acidic bubble of vomit for all eternity whilst he watches, and waits and builds up his stomach. Consuming more fire, more ice to make room for all the other souls aimlessly, innocently lulled into him by sin. If you find a way out, let me know. I will die my thousand deaths happy knowing that at least one soul escaped.

Yello!

If you weren't in an area whiter than the pale horse, and colder than it's tiny ice ridden heart

Very cool simile, but that should be “its” without an apostrophe. With an apostrophe, it’s short for “it is”.

The two should not be able to coexist, but here ever small detail of life you ever moaned about, cursed or thoroughly despised follows you around like a black cloud hanging above you, separating you from the sky.

Minor typo. ^_^

If I were to describe it as anything I would say Hell, but that doesn't particularly answer your question.

I don’t like this. It’s too random. I haven’t asked you any questions, you haven’t offered me any questions that you’re going to answer, you didn’t even open with a rhetorical question like “What’s the Underworld like?”

I cannot say how much land it covers, for I have walked miles in this desolate place and never reached the edge. I cannot tell you how high or low it travels, for a lot of the time I walk with my eyes closed to avert some of the horrors laid out before me. No-one can escape the sounds though;, constant screams, roaring fire, cracking ice, booming footsteps and more screams.

You’re missing commas and stuff here. The bolded marks are ones I’ve put in.

Ever so vast is this place that you hardly ever meet another soul, and when you do you see yourself.

The beginning runs awkwardly. It’s passive voice (I think) and you don’t want passive voice. Passive voice is passive (duh) and that weakens the impact of what you’re trying to say.

You when you first came here, scared, alone tormented and lost.

Missed out word? *five minutes later* Oh, okay, not missed out words. Maybe you could try rewording this and the next few sentences to avoid confusion?

In a pit, a darkened room, underwater Hell my friend, Hell is what you make of it.

Lacking punctuation here, and personally I don’t like the bolded bit. The switch from first person to second is a bit awkward.

The fire is his tongue and the ice are his eyes.

“The ice IS his eyes”.

---
Yo!

This was well written and it flowed nicely. However, your punctuation needs work, because a lot of times you really needed commas, either for parenthesis or to make your sentences run true, and you didn’t have any punctuation at all.

Personally speaking, I didn’t really like the second person, the way the protagonist suddenly stopped telling his story and started telling me what my story would be like. I wanted to get to know that protagonist more and empathise with him, to feel his terror and despair at being inside Hell or wherever. There really wasn’t any sense of character at all—not even a name for a reader to latch onto. I don’t know whether you’re continuing with this or not, but even if you aren’t, I’d like to see more of a defined character. Someone who I can get to know, someone whose fate I’d bewail along with him, someone whose name I can remember and take away from this.

PM me if you have any questions!

~Flounder

Hey,

This piece was written for another user, s/he asked for a description of the underworld (hence the lack of character). I wrote it quite quickly and didn't really want to publish it widely, but I had no other choice. I am quite new to YWS and therefore know little about how it works. I wanted to show the member what sort style I use. I didn't re-read the piece nor did I look through it before I sent it, evidently a personal error. Admittedly I also have an issue with commas, which you picked up on! I have recently finished a masters degree in writing for children and my use of commas was questioned a few times during the creative writing classes. I was over-using them and as a consequence this I now leave them out where they should be included. I am still tackling their use and when it is, or is not, appropriate to use them. Grammar has always- and will always- be my downfall (I am hopeful in saying that, that is what editors are for!)

Despite all this I will say thank you for the review because you took the time to read the piece and then comment on it. I just apologize for the amount of errors included. Your review is thorough and eloquent. Some of my mistakes were careless and silly and I appreciate your patience.

Thanks again.

Fire and ice coinciding simultaneously. If you weren't in an area whiter than the pale horse, and colder than its tiny ice ridden heart, you were faced with tremendous tongues of flame licking every inch of the ground. The two should not be able to coexist but they do.
Here every small detail of life you ever loathed, cursed, hated or despised follows you around like a black cloud hanging above you, separating you from the sky. I cannot say how much land it covers for I have walked miles in this desolate place and never reached the edge. I cannot tell you how high or low it travels for a lot of the time I walk with my eyes tight shut. No-one can escape the sounds though, constant screaming, roaring fire, cracking ice, booming footsteps and more sometimes deathly silence.

The elements missing here are the ones you need, crave and beg for eventually. Air and Earth, taken for granted where I used to dwell. The ice is like a cold dead heart in a castle of fire, somehow keeping the flames alive. And it's lonely, always lonely. There is no way back, no way out only forward for all of time. When you first come across the bridge, a place that beckons you in and draws you near from the start, you are teased and ridiculed. Walking across, over all the fallen souls, slipping in their blood and tripping over their entrails, desperately trying to reach the sunlight so cruelly allowed to seep through a crack in the icy wall. Failure is inevitable.

The underworld runs under, over and besides life. Flashing you constant images of where you could be. The images run thick and fast through your mind and yet Hell is slow. Time is irrelevant. Every moment is filled with pain, suffering and anguish. The fire is his tongue and the ice is his eyes. Hell is the rock solid belly of the beast in which you are trapped. Condemned to live in the acidic bubble of vomit for all eternity.