Young Writers Society

Ribbons of ruby red and golden yellow snaked through the boiling air. Everything was gone except the skeleton of a house that had stood there just hours before. Jack had fallen asleep smoking again, and this time he had actually caught the house on fire. Every now and then, droplets of water from a firefighter's hose would mist over Sam, teasing her with hope that Jack was still alive somewhere underneath that increasing inferno of rubble. They'd pulled her out first after she had stumbled down the smoky staircase and passed out on the living room floor. Last thing she'd seen was Jack's panicked expression trapped at the top of the stairs. She had tried to call out to him, but the cloud of smoke that entered her lungs when she parted her lips was enough to knock her out. The blackened bliss that she spent the next few moments floating through was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Nothing happened. There was just her soul and an inexplicable peace that washed over her like a shower in the most remote rainforest. She regained consiousness a few minutes later on the back of a truck. Some stranger in a red hat and big coat had placed something over her mouth and nose. It smelled funny and burned her nostrils when she breathed in. "She's up! She's ok!" someone yelled.

Then, Sam started to remember. It was like trying to swim through molasses. She slowly recognized the strange men as firefighters and realized the cozy heat surrounding her was coming from her inflamed home. Suddenly, it felt very cold. She remembered Jack and refused to be carried away by ambulance until the squad brought him out safely. That was fifteen minutes ago. Since then, she'd been crying into her oxygen mask. Or trying to, at least. Each time a tear escaped her eyes, it evaporated under the immense heat coming off the scene. She discovered that she was tightly wrapped in a blanket, even though the air was thick with warmth. She realized they had given it to her because her clothes had been burned off. Somehow though, the majority of her skin was intact. She touched the tiny sterling horse that hung on a chain around her neck. Although cooled into a slightly deformed shape, it had survived with her, and given her a nasty burn in the process. The burn had the perfect shape of the charm and chain. She knew it would leave a scar. "So this is what cows feel like after being branded," she thought to herself.

Suddenly, a commotion snapped her back from her thoughts. One of the firefighters was pushing something out of a second-story window. She craned her neck to see, surging with hope that someone had found Jack alive. Sam watched as Jack's limp form fell onto the waiting cushion below. Jack's rescuer then jumped after him, his arm on fire. Several other firefighters rushed to help him extinguish the small flame while paramedics scrambled to Jack's side. Sam didn't remember moving at all. All she remembered was sitting on the firetruck, then somehow being in an ambulance with Jack who was laying on a gurney. The bright lights inside the ambulance blinded her and all she saw for a few moments were round splotches of bright colors dancing before her squinting eyes. Pushing past paramedics, she scrambled to find a glimpse of Jack. He was so still. His face, although recognizable, was covered with burns and most of his black hair had disintegrated. How much longer had he been in the house after she was pulled out? Her tears flowed freely now as she rested her aching head on his still chest. She lay there for what seemed like an eternity, just listening for his familiar breathing, his steady heartbeat. She begged his hollow chest for a sign of life.

The paramedics were arguing about whether or not it was safe to use the AED on someone who had been burned so badly, or if standard CPR was best. "Please, Jack," she whispered into the hollow of his neck, ignoring the medics who were telling her to move, trying to pull her away from him. She willed her sobbing to stop. Then, so slightly that she could've imagined it, Jack's chest rose and fell in a shaky effort to breathe. Sam jumped up and came to her senses, grabbing the nearest medic with a deathgrip. "He's breathing!" She screamed. The already bustling ambulance crew now burst into a frenzy of tubes, needles, masks, and gloves. Sam curled up in the corner of the small area, finally allowing herself to breathe. Jack was going to live. She hugged her blanket closely around her fragile form and looked out the back window of the ambulance. Slowly, the rocking of the moving vehicle and the steady beep of Jack's heart monitor lulled her to unconsiousness. Things were going to be okay. Maybe not the same. No, never the same. But they would be okay.

I like the flow of this piece. You don't waste time on long elaborate descriptions and your similes are short and sweet. However, although the reading was smooth, I never felt excited or concerned for the characters. I don't feel any sympathy because I don't know who they were. Your piece has no back story and this could work, and does work in the right occasions, but when I read the last few lines, I was left thinking, "What is not going to be the same?" because I have no idea what their lives were like prior to the fire.

-Adam

This is great! The flow of this piece is so smooth and easy to follow. I love everything about it! Good job, except I think the only one flaw is that it's really short and seems to have an incomplete feel to it...but everything else about it is so good that I suppose you can sort of overlook that minor fault. Anyway, once again great work and I look forward to reading more of your works.
(Sorry about the short review, I'd have written a lot more but my computer is going to die any moment. :S)

No doubt, this was beautifully written. You wove in descriptions and imagery wonderfully, as smooth as silk. There were no bumps at all through the writing, but I do agree with the others that this lacked something. It was hard to feel too much emotion for the characters or sympathize with them, because quite frankly, we don't know anything about them or their lives. One could argue that you shouldn't need to know much about people to empathize with them, but this story could benefit from a tiny background story, even the simplest of lines to let us know Jack and the MC's relationship, if there's anyone else besides them, why they're alone if that's the case, why she calls him Jack if Jack's her father or uncle...anything along those lines.

That aside, this truly was beautifully written.

I liked it a lot. Very well written. The end of a story is usually how I judge it. I like endings that either wrap it up, set up the story for a sequel, or leave you wondering. This story left me wondering, and I prefer that sort of ending. The descriptions were also nice, and you used metaphors and idioms to help the reader understand the story. Overall, it was great. Nice job, and continue your work.

Hey there everybody--

Just a quick reply to all of you since you all seem to be saying the same thing I must defend my case in the lack of backstory. I may be turning this work into a complete novel, so I didn't want to interfere with any future scenarios I may be inclined to construct later by introducing and/or describing the characters and situation to the point of no return (if you know what I'm saying, haha!). Anyway, I agree with you all that it lacks an emotional connection to the characters, but I was just testing the waters. So, give me your opinions! Should I expand it into a complete novel, or just a longer, more detailed short story? Thanks again for all of your sweet reviews! Love you guys

~Jess

Hi!
Well, reading it through the first time, I was totally in it. I really liked the flow of it, and even though it was really short, I was so nervous about Jack! I was SO glad at the end, so relieved.
I disagree with the lack of emotion though (although it may just be the mood I'm in right now.) They definetly could have more, and if you're going to make it longer in any way, then yes, obviously, you'll need more.
I think this is too short an excerpt, though, to really determine if it should be a novel or short story. I mean, you could do anything with it, but it seems pretty open-and-shut. In that sense, you could go anywhere with it. There's not really enough to say which way to go, though- I'd say short story. But of course, either way is fine- I'd like to see where you go with this!

Wow =) Again, I can't complain with anything. My experience of reading this was like being immersed in a haze watching the frantic scene in slow motion...in a way. If you intended for that affect you slammed the nail on the head. Although, I think there could be more detail, like, when you say…

"She regained consiousness a few minutes later on the back of a truck."

What kind of truck? Is she positioned on a flat, metal extension of a fire engine? Or the bumper? That bit confused me tad; just little touches of detail I think were missing. But nothing to away from the story.

"Ribbons of ruby red and golden yellow snaked through the boiling air."

O'mi gosh! What an impeccable play on words! Not to mention a great story opener.

Should you expand to a novel or short story? It’s really up to you; you can go either way with this and make it great! I do hope you expand though, because the mystery of these characters Sam and Jack and who they are, what happens next is inching away at me to find out. XD

~Ceely

Zup.

I guess this wasn't too bad. Personally, I'd move it up to the chapter one position, considering that its contents are more immediately relevant to the story than they are subtly revealing, as prologues should be. From Wikipedia, a prologue is "an opening to a story that establishes the setting and gives background details, often some earlier story that ties into the main one, and other miscellaneous information." The key words are earlier story, not earlier event. This would include a story prior to a mystery that might help a reader to discern hidden clues embedded throughout. Another style of prologue - more popular among older pieces - is one that provides a brief, expository introduction to the characters and setting, and may also provide allusions to further events of consequence to the story. Your "prologue" falls under neither of these categories, and so must accordingly be reclassified.

So after that long-winded diatribe about virtually nothing, I'm sure you're anxious for some real praise and/or criticism. You're in luck.

Critique first, yeah? There isn't anything wrong with the event in itself - how could there? so little actually happens in this that could possibly go wrong in the thought-to-paper translation - but my main issue lies in the mechanics of your storytelling. Your style, though strong at times, is in general halted and somewhat difficult to follow. Sometimes you aim for imagery, but trip then trip yourself with irrelevant and/or unnecessary statements.

Here's an example of what I mean.

Ribbons of ruby red and golden yellow snaked through the boiling air. Everything was gone except the skeleton of a house that had stood there just hours before. Jack had fallen asleep smoking again, and this time he had actually caught the house on fire.

Those first two sentences were lovely - really. However, they are quickly clogged up by the brusqueness of sentence three, which kills any atmosphere you might have been developing. Statements like these are the downfall of strong imagery. Instead of flatly telling the reader why a fire happened, why not incorporate little references to it here and there? Powerful descriptions lie in discretion; don't be blunderous, be tactful. That's where a writer's strength resides.

Something like this would be stellar. I'm not asking you to copy me word-for-word, but this is just to give you a sense of what I'd like to see.

Perhaps, thought Sam, buried beneath these layers of ashes and ruined framework, there lay a cigarette, still smoking, still wheezing in a final exhale of life.

This is not the only example. I see reiterations of this flaw not unoften throughout the piece; just remember that imagery comes not from terseness, but from from graceful linguistic manipulations. Or description. Whichever sounds better.

Does this help? If not, feel free to share your thoughts.

-Kafka