Young Writers Society

This newfound tranquillity in his world was a value he never predicted he’d enjoy, but it was a quality he very much appreciated now, in the aftermath. The penetrating silence of the white prison-like room seeped into his brain- yet strangely, he was content with it.

The effort of yesterday was now worth its weight today.

His body squirmed around on the floor, seeking comfort. He laid his limbs out wide. The isolation around him iced the air slightly, so it couldn’t be helped that he was feeling a chill that rattled against his vulnerably naked figure.

May we see the good in all darkness, and the evil in all light.

Breathing in and out slowly, he relaxed his features so that his face was free of those pestering frown lines that were so constantly seen plastered across his forehead. No contempt or worry could be sought there. This man was delivered finally from the hardships he had endured.

Here they come, the staggering saviours the world falsely trusts.

Muffled shouting consumed the previous silence. The shouts grew louder, urging and insistent. They were a confused yet structured jumble of cries and demands; just like a herd of dazed sheep. Other sounds soon accompanied them- the jingle of metal, the thump of boots, a click-click of loose badges, and the all-recognisable, heart-sinking thud that one makes whilst jogging with a hefty rifle.

The heart is never stolen, for the soul is more prized.

Not that the man wasn’t prepared for this event- no, he welcomed the joyous moment in which he could confront the people’s protectors, and more thrillingly, witness the sheer revulsion etched upon their faces. They would not be expecting a situation comparable to this.

A feverous excitement fluttered into his chest, making him quiver, but not from the cold. He smiled a grin full of conniving glee. He felt just like a professor who had finally created the coveted invention all pursued- in the lateral sense, that is.

Here it was- the minute he madly beseeched for. The adrenalin was too much- his shivers morphed into shaking, his breathing came out in little squawks, so uncharacteristically that it seemed humorous to his logical side. As the approaching men slithered closer, the indulgence in the anticipation the man felt continued to rise. When they were at the door, hacking at the bolts like wild savages and screaming for him to surrender, the man was all-out howling in pleasure.

“I freed the world of mental plague! I am the most honourable hero of them all!” he screeched in falsetto, competing with the crack of the snapped door.

Tens of burly, armoured men filed in, pistols raised, shielding their face and ready to defend the rest of their bodies if need be.

Suspension hung in the air as the men’s surroundings slowly began to dawn on their eyes. Some couldn’t tear their pupils away, sickly drawn to the displayed disgust, other closed them.

The room was meticulously constructed of religious statues- every single one mutilated. The famous statue of Jesus Christ upon the cross had it’s head hacked off and thrown at its foot, caked in blood. Similar acts of barbarity were cursed upon others- the copper Buddha’s stomach was removed and (real?) intestines lay in the gaping hole, the Goddess of the Moon’s face was substituted with a clown face, a knife grasped in its stone hands. The most nauseating thing of all was the felonious, naked man, now convulsing in exhilaration. Squirming in a pool of murky water, his chest was bloodily carved so that a few concise words were exposed upon his skin-

FAITH is DEAD

The blows from a thousand bullets pierced his flesh to lodge themselves in the floor beneath. He was gone after the first one struck his head. His eyes lolled upwards, and his body jolted up and down, until the very last round had been fired.

Peace be with you.

'allo, 'allo!

This was interesting. The gradual build up was very nice and I found myself on the edge of my seat wondering what was going to happen next. The little bits of thought in italics breaking up the action were quite effective in ramping up each wave of intensity. Very nice.

It did seem like it was a bit wordy at times though. Quite a few monster-sized sentences made me stop and reread them a few times (which drew me out of the flow of the story) and some of the larger vocabulary words made it feel a bit purple-prosey. It ends up making the character feel pretentious and so if I hadn't been somewhat horrified by him at the end, I was at least annoyed by him from the beginning.

I'm not really sure what the message of the story is supposed to be. Are we supposed to sympathize with this character? Why is he naked and being hunted down by a strike squad? What sort of danger does he pose to anyone? Is he like some crazy serial killer dude who used real people in his displays to prove a point? It seems like there are a lot of folks to take out this one guy. What led up to this moment?

Some of these are questions that could very definitely be answered later, I suppose, but I'm not quite sure where I'm supposed to stand by the end of this. Definitely intrigued though.

Feel free to PM me or drop a line on my wall if you have any questions!

~GryphonFledgling

Having a tendency to be cynical, I'm all over this story with a bit of a skeptical mindset, but also very well enjoying it.

Overall, I liked it. I feel the wordiness of some sentences is necessary, as in this case what is happening is more of a mental and spiritual event description (something that deserves loftier sentence structure and wording, to make one think a bit more) as opposed to a physical-action event being described. Sure, the man is being hunted down and a squad eventually comes upon him and murders him, and I think there is where you need to start simplifying sentences a bit--doing this would help with the pace.

As GryphonFledgling pointed out, I'm not sure whether to sympathize with the man or not. Currently, I'm not, just because I'm feeling the whole insane-asylum jive from him. But, come more context and writing, my mindset could change. I want to read more!!!

Overall I really liked it because you are able to convey the intensity of the story and its themes. However, as previously mentioned it seems to me to be a bit wordy in some places, which isn't always a problem, but can take away from that intensity you're trying to show the reader. It's also mentioned that its hard to tell whether to sympathize or not with the man. I'd like to add that this is because the man lacks a motive or a reason he is not remorseful for his actions. True at the end we can guess what his reasoning was, but man doesn't say much for himself in the first part that we can more directly connect with what he thinks about what happened. As a result, it leaves the man rather depthless in my opinion. All we know is that he's done this terrible thing and he's excited to see the reactions of others in the first part. There isn't even the slightest hint directly from his mind that connect him to the reasons for what he did.

Maybe its my own perception but I see the man as a man who did terrible deeds and a man who resents religion and did terrible things in that mindset. Halfway through, the two men switched places, but my mind can't connect the two of them. If any of that made sense.

But in all I found it interesting and I was constantly wondering what was coming next. I liked it.

Hmm, intriguing. In my opinion, this is a good hook; judging from my own thoughts and the previous reviews, you've obviously got us wondering about things. It has me very curious as to what caused all of this, and what happens next.
I liked the way you built up the setting, using the man's limited point-of-view to keep the reader in the dark until the end. Though I'm not sure what to think of the line 'Peace be with you.' If it's his final thought, maybe consider moving it up? If he is dead already, then it seems odd that he would have that conscious thought.

Here they come, the staggering saviours the world falsely trusts.

Love that line, by the way.