h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Okay, okay I know I'm helping with the editing, but hey, here goes nothing...

I apologise now for the sheer obscurity and weirdness of this one

* * * * * * * * * * *
She is there. I can’t see her, but I can feel her presence. I know that as I rush up the shrouded stairway I will see her. I wish I knew why I know.

She’s in sight. A shiver goes through my spine. I knew. Why did I know that? It makes no sense. What divine or physical reasons are there? I pay no heed to what she attends to and hurry past to my next lesson, glad that our meeting went unacknowledged.

No, I don’t hate her. We were close once. But we grew apart. I grew in my spiritual path whilst she diminished in the old ways. Now we don’t seem to understand each other.

She unnerves me now. It’s nothing that she’s done. The way my psyche seems to call out, and only gets her reply. I know that as we speak she is walking along the corridor calmly to her next lesson. The closer she is, the stronger the unnatural pain that resides inside of me. As her shadow moves past the bleak door, I blink and turn away.

Guiltily, I turn back to my history book, my peers unaware of the thoughts that torment me. I try to concentrate on the dusty rules of rotting monarchs. It’s no good. Resentment plagues me.

I relax, letting my mind slip gently away from my body. It can take care of itself. Spying, I know, is not fair. She will never know.

English. Directly below me. She is watching someone…

A noise from what seems like miles away beckons me back. A friend of mine, rambling mindlessly on about the exploits of her boyfriend and how she wished she could ace history, like me. I don’t know why, but I accumulate these people, almost followers. They seem to sense my power and cling to it. Asking for advice, for help. Isn’t it amazing that I manage it? They are good people though, just a little lost.

The lesson dwindles away and I don’t find a chance to slip out and spy, but I still feel her moving below me. Sitting in an almost hypnotic trance I follow her movement in my mind. The harsh ringing of the bell breaks the spell.

My babbling followers sweep me out of the classroom, off and away to the pleasures of break. Suddenly I stop. Within I am searing with pain. She reaches out and grabs my arm. We are locked in an endless stare. My friends stop, looking confused. They glance worriedly at the place I am so fixed on. Some may have noticed the new arrangement of creases on my dull green blazer. Her other cruel, cold hand grabs my shoulder. Unblinking eyes gaze into me, searching my mind. My friends are worried. They do not know what is happening. Their mortal eyes cannot see into my realm…

* * * * * * *

Is this a short story, complete in itself, or is it the start of a longer piece?

I like the plainness of the language, it makes the occasional bit of description stand out more 'dusty rules of rotting monarchs' is striking, where it wouldn't necessarily be in a more adjective heavy piece.

If this is going to be longer I would be concerned about it being written in the present tense, it's difficult to keep up over a long piece and it also makes it harder to read. But its not a problem for something this short.

Some of the language relating to the psychic reality of the character could do with being toned down. Like 'divine''sense my power'and in the last line 'mortal eyes' and 'realm'. It's not that I think these words shouldn't be used, but in this piece they jar. You've created a strong 'ordinary' voice and the extraordinary elements will fit in better with that voice, be more naturalised, and be more striking for the reader if the language used to describe them is as plain as the rest of the character's mode of thought.

Just a nit picks but there's a nasty echo on 'bell' and 'spell'

Thank you for showing it to us, it's an interesting idea, with a strong central mystery to puzzle over, told in a distinctive voice.

Actually, it was a short peice I did for english class just over a year ago...I could probably do better

Thankyou for your comments.

Actually, it was a short peice I did for english class just over a year ago...I could probably do better

Thankyou for your comments.

I do think it needs work, but I also think it's worth working on.

And don't think that because I offer criticism it means I don't like it or that you're a bad writer. (equally, it's not that I think you are especially sensitive to criticism but I've never yet met a writer who could take critisism or suggestions without at least a twinge of self doubt.)

Between the BA I did and the Masters I'm doing I've had five years of experience of writing workshops, criticism (hopefully constructive) is a truly ingrained habit for me now.

If you want a fuller breakdown of my opinions I'd be happy to oblige, but don't doubt yourself, ever! Self doubt is the biggest problem any writer has to overcome.

I love a good, hard critic, myself I'd nver turn down advice, and I'm fairly good at compromising

I don't do self doubt. Everyone has a different taste in writing style

Perhaps I should type up something more recent.....<?>

Yes, type something up and I'll give you a full and honest dissection

Great, thanks!

.... I could be a while....

take your time I have to do the dishes

Having fun<?>

Well...here it is...
It might be a little hard going I wrote it with the intention of making people go ""

-------------------------------

The Nature of Reality.

*

Relentlessly the rain hammered through the woods around me, my drenched clothes clinging desperately to my fragile limbs. Chattering voices, distorted by the lupine howls of the wind, cloak me in the twilight as unbidden eyes follow my progress through the sinking mist. Every tree haunts me; each innocent scurry in the darkness fills my very soul with doubt. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Her wizened old figure is silhouetted against the flickering flames from the fire, each leap and twist projecting a grotesque distortion of her body onto the cold, raw walls. Outside, the rain fills the woodland with complex rhythms, echoing the pursuit of the many lives hidden under each footstep.

She seems to be asleep, her chest rising and falling with the regularity of a contented rest.

**

Hot, crisp air asphyxiates me, making my mouth dry and sore, too tight to swallow. The barren land hides nothing from me. Fiery sand sticks between my withered toes, leaving behind painful stigmata. The sullen landscape seems to infinite to acknowledge my presence. From a vantage point, at its zenith, the sun glares down at me, the ragged lone traveller in the midst of an eternal golden sea. There is nothing but the scorching sand and the oppressive blue clarity of the sky, filling all horizons around me.

Through exhaustion I finally fall dejectedly to my hands and knees, forced through the aridity to crawl over the millions of sandy splinters. Each moment is searing, as countless points of sharp shards pass across my aching palms. I feel that this is a trial I may never complete, and desperation fills me. I drag myself to my blistered feet. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Outside, it no longer rains. All of the puddles have been dried up, taking with them the brief lives they supported. The air is crisp and silent; the sun pounds down on the concrete desert around the house.

Inside, the fire still crackles but she is unaware of anything, oblivious to the uncomfortable raging heat. Even the now harsh brightness of the blazing sun does not disturb her as it filters through the grimy panes. She is rested on a moth-eaten chair, not cleaned since it was purchased in the summer of love. The faded gaudy patterns seem to beg for those heady days again.

**

The bitter wind whips though my wiry hair, almost freezing me. As I breathe out, I leave a furious cloud of vapour, which trails away before disappearing completely. Around me is nothing but bare ice. The coldness burns the soles of my feet into the floor where they stick painfully, each step I take ripping a new layer of skin away. My eyelashes are frozen together, and sight seems impossible. I close my eyes in resignation and stumble stiffly and awkwardly through the icy wasteland, relying on intuition alone to guide me. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Clouds begin to pass over the clear sky, and a harsh gust of wind forces its way under the rickety, beaten door, effortlessly extinguishing the fire. Outside, snow is already beginning to settle. Each delicate droplet performs an intricate waltz with an invisible partner, before softly kissing the sleepy ground. On the single pane of glass, the frost has already begun to weave its ornate patterns, each swirl becoming as complex as the shifting tides, a fractal amongst fractals. The woman involuntarily bundles up against the vicious onslaught, and a shiver almost jerks her out of her dreams. Her face is contorted with troubled thoughts and her soft brow is deeply lined.

**

Now I am surrounded by the sheer crushing weight of an ocean. Every ripple becomes a tidal wave, and I am at the mercy of the unforgiving elements. The salt stings my blistered feet, as the wind rips through my damp hair. My every pore is saturated and my helpless body is tossed violently from side to side. I am barely afloat amid a whirling, restless torrent. Far on the eternally watery horizon that stretches from all sides around me, I spy my destination. I take a deep breath of the salt soaked air and struggle on against the surging waves. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

As the weather begins to get milder, the season’s icy grip on the cottage loosens. Small droplets of water form on the single pane window and gently seep through the cold, rotting wood, the ancient peeling paint showing no resistance. A weak spot in the cracked ceiling begins a slow cascade of lethargic water droplets that land unnoticed in the old lady’s wiry hair. A small sea begins to build up around the dampened firewood, and glistens softly as fingers of light trace shadows on its surface. The woman twitches in her dreams and sighs deeply, her ragged ribcage moving reluctantly upwards.

**

Now I become one with the earth, and can barely tell my own hands and feet from the clammy soil that surrounds me. It is so dark and confined here. Although I feel claustrophobic I am serene; I know where I am going. There must be miles of soil above me, but I do not feel the weight. Digging through is an arduous task, but my spirit will never cease and an eerie hope fills me. Incongruous voices fill each molecule around me, sharing distorted stories of shattered dreams. I am trapped here among a million lives; every tortured soul stranded in a lost world, and each righteous citizen who was valiant and brave. I am no afraid, for there is inner light in this darkness. As I climb forwards, I stumble and fall, but I am not deterred. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Night passes over the declining home. The moon does not glow eerily in the darkness of the all-consuming sky, and not a single star’s light offers solstice from its heaven. The ground longs for their company.

Inside she still rests, her frail body one with the blackness around her. The soft sounds of her gentle breaths are barely audible despite the hushed silence inside the house.

Outside, the creatures of the night awake from their dormancy and the struggles of life continue.

**

As though a beautiful sunrise, my inner light slowly expands around me. It is awe-inspiring and I am moved that something so powerful be of my own devices. It is dazzling, but does not hurt my eyes to look at. I feel a great surge of overpowering joy and freedom as the light becomes me. I am moving without constraint of gravity or physical body. I understand now- everything – why I suffered so badly. It was my destiny.

**

The night unwillingly releases its tight grip on the patient land and the transition between dark and light slowly begins.

The house notices no difference. Her body is there, still and somehow smaller.

Hesitantly, the sun pays its final respects through an uncovered part of her window. A crow is the first to herald the news.

Hmm, waterlogged hands

I like this, it didn't mahe me go at all.

There are no fundamentl problems, the structure is fine and it's an evocative piece. The biggest problem is overwriting and redundancy, which is an easy flaw to fall into. Basically there are too many adjectives, and quite a lot of uneccesary repetition. I don't mean the tactical repetition of 'I must perservere. It is my destiny.' That works brilliantly, I particularly liked the reinforcing and connecting effect it had. It needs a good fillet to remove a good proportion of the adjectives and the repetitions that aren't earning their keep.

I'll give you a blow by blow for the start to give you a clearer idea of what I mean.

'rleentlesly the rain hammered' For consistancy this should be hammers. Not sure that relentlessly is needed.

'drenched' 'desperately' and 'fragile' come very close together. I'd cut drenched, it's redudnant anyway, we know it's raining and we'll get drenched from clinging.

'chattering voices, distorted by the lupine howls of the wind, cloak me in the twilight as unbidden eyes follow my progress through the sinking mist.' This is a problematic sentance. The meaning is unclear - how do 'chattering voices' 'cloak me...'? Also it could do with being split into two sentances '...twilight. Unbidden...'

I like 'sinking mist' It's a good bit of imagery, well controlled and understated.

'Her wizened old figure' Old is redundant following wizened.

'the flickering flames from the fire' Flickering firelight?

'The sullen landscape seems to infinite to acknowledge my presence' Too not to. Sullen isn't really needed. 'Seems' is an uneccesary qualifier is would make a stronger impression.

'filling all horizons around me.' uneccesary, either have 'eternal' or this but not both.

'Through exhaustion I finally fall dejectedly' you could cut 'finally and 'dejectedly'

'forced through the aridity to crawl over the millions of sandy splinters.' you could cut 'through the aridity' and 'the' isn't needed at all.

'Each moment is searing, as countless points of sharp shards pass across my aching palms.' This repeats the millions of sandy splinters' of the previous sentance. The two sentances could be combined. Shards are always sharp and pointy.

'puddles have been dried up' cut 'been'.

'The faded gaudy patterns seem to beg for those heady days again' 'seem', again is redundant qualification. 'again' could be replaced by 'to return' or something.

'The bitter wind whips though my wiry hair' too much allitoration.

'which trails away before disappearing completely' trails away to nothing or cut 'before dissapearing completely'

Hope that helps. If you want me to dissect the rest of it I will, but you've probably already got the gist of what I mean from the nit pics I done here.

That's fantastic!
very much for all your help...

I'll have a go at reworking it, and will post you the final result

I would very much like to see the revised edition when it's ready.

Happy redrafting.

Okay... I think I'm done

--------

The Nature of Reality.

*

The rain hammers through the woods around me, my clothes clinging desperately to my fragile limbs. Chattering voices, distorted by the lupine howls of the wind, surround me in the twilight. Unbidden eyes follow my progress through the sinking mist. Every tree haunts me; each innocent scurry in the darkness fills my very soul with doubt. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Her wizened figure is silhouetted against the flickering firelight, each leap and twist projecting a grotesque distortion of her body onto the cold, raw walls. Outside, the rain fills the woodland with complex rhythms, echoing the pursuit of the many lives hidden under each footstep.

She seems to be asleep, her chest rising and falling with the regularity of a contented rest.

**

Hot, crisp air asphyxiates me, making my mouth dry and sore, too tight to swallow. The barren land hides nothing from me. Fiery sand sticks between my withered toes, leaving behind painful stigmata. The landscape is too infinite to acknowledge my presence. From a vantage point, at its zenith, the sun glares down at me, the ragged lone traveller in the midst of golden sea. There is nothing but the scorching sand and the oppressive blue clarity of the sky, filling all horizons around me.

Through exhaustion I fall dejectedly to my hands and knees, forced through to crawl over the millions of sandy splinters, the shards painfully passing across my aching palms. I feel that this is a trial I may never complete, and desperation fills me. I drag myself to my blistered feet. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Outside, it no longer rains. All the puddles have dried up, taking with them the brief lives they supported. The air is crisp and silent; the sun pounds down on the concrete desert around the house.

Inside, the fire still crackles but she is unaware of anything, oblivious to the uncomfortable raging heat. Even the now harsh brightness of the blazing sun does not disturb her as it filters through the grimy panes. She is rested on a moth-eaten chair, not cleaned since it was purchased in the summer of love. The faded gaudy patterns beg for those days to return.

**

The bitter wind whips though my hair, almost freezing me. As I breathe out, I leave a furious cloud of vapour, which trails away to nothing. Around me there is only bare ice. The coldness burns the soles of my feet into the floor where they stick; each step I take rips a new layer of skin away. My eyelashes freeze together, making sight impossible. In resignation I stumble stiffly and awkwardly through the icy wasteland, relying on intuition alone to guide me. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Clouds begin to pass over the clear sky, and a harsh gust of wind forces its way under the rickety door, effortlessly extinguishing the fire. Outside, snow is already beginning to settle. Each delicate droplet performs an intricate waltz with an invisible partner, before softly kissing the sleepy ground. On the windowpane, the frost has already begun to weave its ornate patterns, each swirl as complex as the shifting tides, a fractal amongst fractals. The woman involuntarily bundles up against the vicious onslaught, and a shiver almost jerks her out of her dreams. Troubled thoughts mark deep lines on her soft brow.

**

Now I am surrounded by the sheer crushing weight of an ocean. Every ripple becomes a tidal wave, and I am at the mercy of the unforgiving elements. The salt stings my blistered feet, as the wind rips through my damp hair. My helpless body is tossed violently from side to side. I am barely afloat amid a whirling, restless torrent. Far on the eternally watery horizon, I spy my destination. I take a deep breath of the salt saturated air and struggle on against the surging waves. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

As the weather begins to get milder, the season’s icy grip on the cottage loosens. Small droplets of water form on the single pane window and gently seep through the rotting wood, the ancient peeling paint showing no resistance. A weak spot in the cracked ceiling succumbs to the melting snow, and a slow cascade of lethargic water droplets land unnoticed in the old lady’s wiry hair. A small sea begins to build up around the dampened firewood, and glistens softly as fingers of light trace shadows on its surface. The woman twitches in her dreams and sighs deeply, her ragged ribcage moving reluctantly upwards.

**

Now I become one with the earth, and can barely tell my own hands and feet from the clammy soil that surrounds me. It is dark and confined. Although I feel claustrophobic I am serene; I know where I am going. There must be miles of soil above me, but I do not feel the weight. Digging through is an arduous task, but my spirit will never cease and an eerie hope fills me. Hushed voices fill each molecule around me, sharing stories of shattered dreams. I am trapped here among a million lives; every tortured soul and each noble spirit. I am not afraid, for there is inner light in this darkness. As I climb forwards, I stumble and fall, but I am not deterred. I must persevere. It is my destiny.

**

Night passes over the declining home. The ground longs for the company of the silent moon or for the solstice of a single star’s light.

Inside she still rests, her frail body one with the blackness around her. The soft sounds of her gentle breaths are barely audible despite the hushed silence inside the house.

Outside, the creatures of the night awake from their dormancy and the struggles of life continue.

**

As a sunrise, my inner light slowly expands around me. It is awe-inspiring and I am moved that something so beautiful could be of my own devices. It is dazzling, but does not hurt my eyes to look at. I feel a great surge of overpowering joy and freedom as the light becomes me. I am without constraint. I understand now- everything – why I suffered so badly. It was my destiny.

**

The transition between dark and light slowly begins.

The house notices no difference. Her body is there, still and somehow smaller.

Hesitantly, the sun pays its final respects through an uncovered part of her window. A crow is the first to herald the news.