Friday, January 11, 2013

A Critical Feature

Sorry about the lateness of this one, but the idea came rather late.

Last month I had the pleasure of participating in a great Critique contest on deviantART hosted by one of the many lit groups I'm a part of:

Super Writers Help


This contest featured six prose pieces and eight poems, offered up by various members and staff from the group, for critique and comments.
The person who critiqued the most pieces won.

I managed to read and critique all 6 prose pieces, but as poetry is not my forte I declined adding my input. It's not that I hate poetry, really, it's more that I don't understand all the rules, types, and tones that poems should/could be, so I don't find myself confident enough to offer my opinions, in terms of critique anyway.

But I'd like to share with you the pieces I did critique, a couple of which are utterly phenomenal, so you might enjoy them as much as I did.

The Boy's Gift
by *007Balel
We walked into the room, only to be welcomed by the stench of blood. Suddenly I fell silent; no words could be uttered from my lying mouth. I was shocked to find his body tied up to a cold and hardwood chair in the middle of this deserted room. A grisly and dimmed light hung above his head, swinging to and fro every time the door was opened, threatening to fall and crack open onto his skull. A dim circle illuminated his head, shadowing the rest of his face. This was ironic; it was like he was some sort of subject ready to be questioned, but if he even happened to utter a word, we would beat the crap out of his thin and scrawny frame.

The Tale Of The Little Robot
by *Diluculi
In a land far far away there was a scientist. This scientist was very curious. He nearly knew everything about every thing in the universe. But there was one question he couldn't answer himself. So he built a computer. It wasn't small or pretty, but that did not bother the scientist. The computer should only be able to do one thing. He should answer the question the scientist could not. The when the computer was started, he asked it: "What is the sense of life?" The computer made no sound but several lights started flickering. The scientist was patient, so he waited.

Time passed by and the scientist still waited.

Even more time passed until the computer gave an answer. A small piece of paper slit out of it somewhere. The scientist read: "Too many variables. More input needed."

An Angel's War (Part 1)
by ~Zune164
Today is my first day of being an Angel. I know what you're thinking, a messenger of God, with snow white wings and a halo. Playing the trumpet and shouting the return of God. Well, I can't play the trumpet to save my life. Plus I have no halo and black wings. If you are the sheep and Jesus is the shepherd, we are the shepherd's crook. We are the Angel corps. We fight demons on earth to protect humans. This is my story of how I became an Angel.

Devil of a Friend
by *TheTerrorOfTheDeep
Seth died on a sunny day.

They held his funeral three days later. It had been sunny then too. I didn't go. I was too busy trying to exorcise Seth's ghost. I burned sage, but it didn't seem to bother him. Instead, I sneezed.

"It's your fault I'm dead."

I sat on my bed with a red sheet wrapped around me and over my head so it formed a hood. I gripped it closed over my chest. "Stop lying."

He settled across from me, echoing my Indian style so our knees would have touched. Even as a ghost, he was taller than me. "I'm not lying. If I never met you, then none of this would have happened."

"The way I see it you would have died sooner." I glared at some lint on my lap. When he laughed, I jerked my glare up to him.

"You know what I love about this whole thing?" He smiled. "Is that only you can see me. Maybe I am just a figment of your imagination, brought on by guilt."

I smirked right back. "I would have to feel guilt for that."
*For some reason this amazing deviation was moved to storage...so despite it being one of my favorites, you can only enjoy and comment on the copy made for the contest.
Still, do be sure to check it out!*


The Dissection of How
by *vespera
When they asked me how I could do it, I told them it was like making love.

You start slowly, with your eyes on the skin of your beloved. You take your time. You notice if she is cream or churning butter, any layer of milk fat, really - and if she is, if she's dotted with freckles (and you almost don't want to wait to find the rest.) Or, perhaps, she's semi-translucent and you can see her tiny blue veins on close inspection. You notice that maybe she is none of these things. She may be copper, beer-glass brown, or even two minutes from melting into the night.
*Another of my favorites, and that last line of the second paragraph is simply ingenious.
Go read the entire thing NOW!*


Death by Conversation
by ~LuckyClover38
         The ground is truly beautiful today. The dirt is a lovely, rich brown color. It's not quite muddy but a little damp and sprinkled in fine powder. There are some musty, rotting leaves, littered across the ground like no one cares for them. No one probably does. They are limp like corpses. You can't forget about those pretty little ants though. They track with heavy crumbs on their backs, spinning circles. Beautiful isn't it? So I might as well just keep staring at that loathsome ground and hope he doesn't come over to talk to me. But, of course I'm not that lucky am I? Oh no. Of course he's coming to talk to me. These ants are really fascinating today. Really interesting. More interesting than his face, which I refuse to look at as I have done since I met him.

         Hi.


Like I said, I had a lot of fun with the contest, and I'm sure the other 3 participants did too! If you'd like to check out all the submissions, as well as see some of the comments/critiques we left, head on over to Super Writers Help and check out the contest folder! Also, I hope you enjoy reading some of these fantastic pieces as much as I did.

(Seriously, check out #4 and #5 and show them some MAJOR love. You won't be sorry.)

Hope you have a great weekend!