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Post by Frodo on Sept 2, 2005 19:51:39 GMT -5
Sorry . . . I got tired of waiting. I'm working on other short stories right now but this is my best (and finished one) so far.
Anything I can change? C'mon! Hit me with criticism! I want it!
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Post by Locked Out on Sept 2, 2005 23:39:00 GMT -5
I still like it. Very, very much. Si, me gusta mucho. Es un cuenta bueno. Si, si!
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Post by Fafmimbaki on Sept 3, 2005 14:04:10 GMT -5
It's a bit choppy in places, but that could be because it is all memory, it needs a bit more though. I think it needs a sequel! What happens with the guy?
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Post by Locked Out on Sept 3, 2005 14:21:33 GMT -5
The only choppy part I can see is the last paragraph or so. And she told us that she killed they guy, remember? Oh well. I'm giving feedback to feedback! *slaps self on forehead*
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Post by Fafmimbaki on Sept 3, 2005 15:13:56 GMT -5
No, she killed the gryphon dude. She's gotta be telling her story to a guy.. or else she is very messed up in the head... I find it the most choppy when she blacks out in her shift, and then suddnely Tallenwy is there when she wakes up. Although, it works perfectly fine, it just seems like somehow she transported from one spot to another even though she didn't move. At least to me it does...
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Post by Frodo on Sept 5, 2005 12:37:56 GMT -5
WHAT are you talking about?!?
Tallenwy is DEAD. Kaetuo is telling her story to YOU. aye aye aye . . . I should re-write the whole thing. Its choppy and people don't seem to understand it.
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Post by Frodo on Sept 5, 2005 13:13:30 GMT -5
Oh - I get Andrea's remark about telling the story to a guy. Okay. She could be, so she'd get a mate, or she could be wanting a friend . .? I dunno. I think I just need to re-word alot of things.
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Post by Locked Out on Sept 7, 2005 16:22:37 GMT -5
I like the way it is, but that's just me. The only thing that seems to need re-wording as far as I can see, is the last paragraph. Then again, this is a short-sighted dumb blonde talking. Maybe you and Andrea are simply seeing something I can't.
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Post by Frodo on Sept 9, 2005 16:42:58 GMT -5
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Post by Frodo on Sept 9, 2005 16:43:55 GMT -5
I give up on this conversation.
*sits back with hands clasped behind head* Anyone else have anything to share for the time being?
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Post by Locked Out on Sept 12, 2005 15:04:31 GMT -5
*falsely bright smile* Nope!
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Post by Frodo on Sept 12, 2005 19:24:01 GMT -5
oh, please Jo, You always have something your working on. Maybe you can post all of the Kendrick you have so far - I don't care if its 'pretty' or not . . . Wow, I feel like editing all of a sudden.
Oi! Andrea! Bethany! Put something down so we can read it and give you feedback!
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Post by Locked Out on Sept 14, 2005 15:17:18 GMT -5
Do I? Are you sure about that? No, I meant it when I said I don't have anything to post. I wasn't hinting or being silly. *sigh*
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Post by Fafmimbaki on Sept 17, 2005 14:47:32 GMT -5
I got something! It's called, "My Life as an Apple."
My name is Damascus; I am a red johnathan apple. I heard that you wanted to learn how apples grow. Well, then, what better way than to ask an apple? Now, apples start as buds on the branch of an apple tree. The buds are formed in the fall, they sit there all winter incubating and waiting for the world to warm up. When spring comes the buds are ready, they stretch out and open into pretty little flowers. The flowers act much like young children. They coo with awe at the world and play with the bugs that visit. When the bugs are tired of playing, the flowers are quite happy to share the food their parent tree had given them. You humans call it nectar. The flowers talk and laugh and play word games. The air is full of their chatter. When an animal would rest in the trees branches or under it, the flowers pester them with questions. Like, “What’s it like to move around?” or, “What’s it like to move around?” The flowers perk up the world around them and life is pleasant. A week or so passes in this fashion and the flowers live in peace. But one day the flowers begin to get a little moody and their bases begin to swell. They begin to argue and bicker, and flowers that were once the best of friends turn their faces away from each other. This is around the time that we apples begin to become aware.
I was a very curious little start and would pester my flower with questions. She told me many things about the world and what it was like when she grew up. We had many enjoyable talks together. Then one day all that changed. One by one the flowers wilted and died. Us apples couldn’t bury them since we couldn’t move and they were attached to us. Our parent tree, or rather our grandparent tree since the flowers were our parents, comforted us and told us that this was the way of the world. Many apples grew moody, argued, and whined. I didn’t see why our grandparent tree didn’t drop them like she threatened to so many times. Nature moves quickly and we apples were soon over the loss of our mother flowers.
I became friends with a few apples in the nearby tree. Their names were Cynthia, Charles, and Fred. We joked, laughed, and talked about many things, like our feelings and thoughts. We planned out our futures. I was going to be the wisest apple in the world. Cynthia was going to be a composer, she practiced all the time and we enjoyed singing her little ditties. Charles was going to be the first apple to move, and Fred was going to be a dinosaur. We told our plans to the grandparent trees. They would just say “Hmmm.” They sang us to sleep each night using one of Cynthia’s songs. As we grew the trees taught us the history of the apple. Like how we are related to the rose, and how the great apple Massimo fell on Newton’s head, giving him the idea of gravity.
Half the summer watched us grow, the rest of it watched us mature and ripen. Our feelings and interests changed. Some of the moody apples cheered up, but a lot of them stayed moody. My friends and I discussed new topics. We now made plans for our future children. My children would be the most intelligent trees on Earth, and Cynthia’s would twist themselves into beautiful shapes that would make the wind whistle. Charles’ children would be the tallest trees, and Fred’s would be the first trees to discover dinosaurs. But this time when we told our grandparent trees they didn’t hum. This time they told us the truth. They told us that we would probably never live to a ripe old age, and that we would probably never have children. We lived in an orchard and our only purpose was to be food for the humans. Many apples cried out in anger and began to argue again. This time the grandparent trees followed through with their threat. At the first strong wind many of the moody arguing apples were thrown to the ground even though they were still pretty green. The windfall apples threw fits and moaned on the ground. Soon bugs and animals attacked them, I will never forget their screams of pain as they were eaten alive.
We were all very silent from then on, the silence only broken by mournful songs that Cynthia composed, the activity of the world, and Charles grunting as he tried to move. All he managed was to wiggle on his stem, and that was only with the assistance of the wind. Fred tried so hard to become a dinosaur that sometimes he almost popped and fell out of the tree. He also got the hiccoughs several times. Have you ever seen an apple hiccough? It’s very disturbing. I listened to the world and learned. The world told me many things. She told me about the wonders of the universe and life. She also told me about the terrible things that humans did. How they take more than they need and then waste it all so that they have to take more. They kill and hack away at living things, including themselves.
Then the day arrived when the humans came and picked us apples. We weren’t even ripe yet. They separated us and packed us into dark boxes. Then they loaded us into a truck and took us away from the orchard and our grandparent trees.
I never heard from my friends again.
We reached a building from which the death cries of millions of apples filled the air. They took us out of the boxes and sorted through us. Some apples went onto a conveyer belt and some, like me, were packed back into boxes. In that building the other apples were chopped up and made into juices, pie fillings, and many other things.
I ended up on a store shelf a week later. Then you bought me. Sadly this is the end of my tale, as you are going to eat me. Good bye.
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Post by Fafmimbaki on Sept 17, 2005 14:48:26 GMT -5
I really need good constructive critisism on this. I need to edit it. Any ideas on where I could add more or change something?
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