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| User | Post |
| True Flight Posts: 4250/5245 |
sorry I went back over it. My XO said I was right there were things but not run on sentences. Some of things were about the larger sentences and the name change (i.e. wrong proper noun) |
| Cairoi Posts: 9024/3807 |
Originally posted by Xeios It's all good, man. I mean, every other mistake you said I made, I did, and since we don't really have a "writing style" thing, I suppose it fits under grammar. The one that concerns me more is that I got a 5 from True over something I didn't do. |
| Xeios Posts: 2852/2954 |
Thought I had read one or two, it was very late and I was very tired while reviewing this. Forgive my thinking long sentences were run-ons. :V |
| Phoenixocracy Posts: 1434/2746 |
Originally posted by Cairoi I saw none. All of your sentences were fine. As you said, some were long, but nothing was a run-on. |
| Cairoi Posts: 9022/3807 |
I'm not contesting any of the rulings here, but could someone point out some of these run-on sentences? I see long sentences, but they're all grammatically correct as far as I can see. |
| True Flight Posts: 4245/5245 |
Grammar: 8
I did see somethings a little off. (Had my XO help me out a bit) Spelling: 10 Excellent Plot: 9 The beginning was very unimaginative to me. However it did bring everything together on the climax. I loved the comedy in the climax and to end it with such sadness. I almost cried. (at work too) Characters: 9 Mr. Berger was a great character. I've always loved the reapers in stories. Description: 10 All these descriptions make it so easy to be there. I felt like I was literally in the room. Creativity: 10 I love how you twisted the story of the Grim Reaper around and got this. This is just awesome =P Overall: 53 |
| Phoenixocracy Posts: 1364/2746 |
Alright, time for some judging.
Grammar: 8 There were a few things that were a bit odd, and I can't ignore the name change. I thought the slow start was a good way to introduce your characters, so no points off from me there. Everything else was great. Spelling: 10 I would be disappointed of you got lower. Plot: 10 Full points. Explaining the background of his father and mother made it seem like a normal story until you introduced the reaping. Interesting an unexpected twist, so no points off. Characters: 9 The main characters were well defined, and even the cop was realistic to me. The only thing that deducted the point was Sharon. I understand that she is a side character, but a bit more could be added to her. She had almost no emotion. Description: 9 Wonderful, showing descriptions. You barely told us a thing, and as Xeios said, it wasn't just a list. Creativity: 10 A completely original idea. Nothing else to say. Overall: 56 A great story. I would like to see more if you decide to make it longer. |
| Elara Posts: 5944/9736 |
For the record, spelling is there precisely because spell-checkers exist. Half the time they miss things, and if the writer cannot be bothered to go over their own story manually then I feel they should lose points for it. |
| Xeios Posts: 2834/2954 |
Grammar: 6
Missing words, No run-on sentences, changing the name of the town, and other-than-that, the aforementioned slow start. Try breaking up large sentences with shorter, easily digestible ones, I have a feeling it would improve things greatly. Also losing points for having gone over the word limit. Spelling: I refuse. Plot: 8 Great plot line from start to finish, easily accessible, and the reader doesn't feel like they're being talked down to. I felt like there was room for improvement as far as bringing Sharon into the plot more, but she served her purpose as the anchor for what is normally construed as reality. However, I do think that if he were in the house for a few hours, that she would have gone around the town exploring or something, perhaps she loves taking photographs, and she spent the afternoon recording the picturesque landscape. Characters: Dare I? 10 Flawless execution of realistic characters. Sharon excluded, as I said earlier, there is difficulty with a limit, and having gone over said limit already, she could have been edited out, merely tossed in there as the protagonist's thoughts, how he missed her and what not. Either way, you had four characters that were constructed well enough that Sharon's failings can be chalked up to the pains of the restrictive limit. An example of where the character motivations are incredible(for those other than Cairoi, that is,) is the description of the family's life. It showed how the mother was attached to the father because he was her rock, her opposite, and without him, she would have fluttered away in the wind. Which shows why the mother would want to move to such a town, a town where a loved one was never taken away in a flash, and where her son could come and resolve any issues with her, should they not reconcile before her death. Benjamin's unresolved issues with his Father allow him to believe such a tremendous fairytale and leap in trust when it came to believing Mr. Berger's tale. He wanted to believe that something like this could happen, and an almost Utopian way of passing into the afterlife was described. Mr. Berger also seemed like he had taken the weight of the world onto his shoulders, and though he forsook earthly pleasures, he was illustrated to show the pleasure he had in reuniting estranged family members. Description: 8 Did I see similes? Holy shit, it was! You used multiple ways of describing surroundings, and led enough variety that I didn't feel like I was reading lists of description, nor did I feel like there was not enough description. A great balance, between too much and too little, but faults in description lie once again in how much space you had to describe. I would've liked to see more of the story with the reaper, more of what happened to the old reapers, and Mr. Berger's hardships since he took on the job. Creativity: 8 Very creative, and unique. You captured a child-like want to believe in a fairytale, all the while depicting it in a very concrete, and real world. Your penchant for fantasy was held onto well in this story, as you let one particular event of fantasy flourish, but kept your story grounded. Too often do I see the unrealistic, though creative, ideas flourish unchecked, until the world that was created seems almost too unrealistic and unidentifiable. I was very pleased with the outcome. Overall: 40 Very good work, especially since the greatest flaws in the work are not issues with mastery of ideas, simply the word limit you were given, and problems that could easily be addressed by an editor. |
| Lord Vulkas Mormonus Posts: 3709/4541 |
Grammar: 8
Obviously you were impacted by having to condense your story, but I thought that your first several paragraphs were a little dry, explaining the relationship as needed, but not quite pulling us in as much as I would have liked. There were a couple of other things like this, but since it was condensed, I suppose its understandable. Spelling: 10 Someday I'll understand why this is ever included. Plot: 7 I thought that the plot was good, but the main complaint I had was where the heart of the story was, or rather, where it wasn't. Was the heart in him getting over his mother's death, in what happenned to Jacob? When the story is over, what part of the plot should be really having an effect on us? Again though, still pretty good. Characters: 8 I thought that this story was a bit light on character, but the plot really didn't require it, so inserting personality probably would have just damaged the story. The only reason I didn't give a ten was because I wasn't sure which character or whose emotions we were supposed to be following. Throughout most of the story, you have us following Benjamin, but then you also tell us the thoughts of Sharron. Description: 9 Great descriptions, using slight metaphors to describe the environment or the way people spoke. Creativity: 10 Nice folktale idea for your story, touching on some original ideas, such as what happenned to the people who had to do the reaping. Overall: 52 A good story, and I enjoyed reading it. I know I didn't score you as high as Elara did, but that's not because I didn't enjoy the story, I just believe in handing out 10s only when something is truly perfect, rather than very good. So good story, I enjoyed it! |
| Elara Posts: 5932/9736 |
Grammar: 9
A few things came out as odd to me, but good Spelling: 10 Excellent Plot: 9 Nicely done and well explained. Two things got a point knocked off: 1) I had no idea where this was, 2) you changed the name of the town halfway through to Paradise Hills. Also, 204 over is a bit much, but I can accept it. Characters: 9 Sharon seemed a bit flat, but she is a background character. I felt that Benjamin was very well rounded and made a great protagonist. Mr. Berger was also very intriguing and I was sad he didn't have more of a role. Description: 9 Beautiful description, you really made the scenery pop out. Could have described the way that Benjamin and Sharon looked, but everything else was amazing. Creativity: 10 A town that does it's own Reaping is not something that I have come across before. The idea of cheating death is, but not in such a way. Honestly, I really enjoyed it. Great job. Overall: 56 |
| Cairoi Posts: 9017/3807 |
The warm rays of daylight were already beginning to fade as Benjamin Lambert drove down the winding mountain road that led to Pleasant Hills. In the seat beside him, Sharon rested her head against the window pane, gently frozen in slumber despite the jerky rattling of the car. The radio had been off for some time, and although his fiancé’s effortless charm was on display, his mind was utterly possessed by the purpose of this journey. Since Benjamin received the letter from a friend of his mother informing him of her death the day before, he could dwell on little else.
Benjamin would be the first to admit that his mother and he were never very close. Growing up, his mother had obviously cared for him, but she was an aloof creature by nature, and so it was Ben’s father who kept the family bound tightly together with his incessantly positive nature. Mother and son alike gravitated to him, and his affection and bombastic nature reflected off of them in imitation. However, when Benjamin was twelve years old, the life he had known vanished completely. His father died in a gruesome crash, and with him went the joy and light of their home. Benjamin and his mother became increasingly distant, having little more in common than grief. On the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Ben left home. A year later, his mother followed suit. In the fourteen years following, the splintered family had little contact. They would send each other simple Christmas cards, and if one of them moved, they would be sure to send a short letter filling the other in. Benjamin often believed it was only the memory of his father that maintained these heartless correspondences, and so attributed nothing to them. But now, as he made his way to the quiet town she had lived in for the past five years, he felt a heavy pang guilt with every breath he took. He regretted it all. The distance, the frustration, all of it felt so meaningless in the face of this permanent silence. The sky was a fiery bronze as they pulled past the wrought iron fence, overgrown with vines, which surrounded the small town. A small sign, carved from wood years before, welcomed them as they reached the first enclave of brick houses alight with candles resting in open windowsills. As Benjamin marveled at the picturesque neighborhood, Sharon yawned and lifted herself from the window. “Is this the place?” She asked, with a tinge of disapproval. Benjamin looked at her for a moment, annoyed, before turning back to the houses. “Yeah, I’m looking for her address now, hold on,” he muttered, peering into the windows at the families eating dinners and talking beside fireplaces. It felt utterly surreal to him, having lived for so long in the hearts of cities. There was no distance, no fear here. “There, isn’t that the number?” Sharon said, pointing at the house on her side. It was a smaller house built farther back from the road than the others, surrounded by a moat of flowers. He drew the letter from the glove compartment and read it, confirming Sharon’s guess. It was a strange destination, far homelier than anything Ben would have ever expected. As they grew closer to the house, the front door opened and a man appeared, adorned in black. His eyes listlessly peered at Ben, marked upon his face by deep pockets. His hair, slicked back, was a graying shade of black. He was neither young nor old, but some hollowed middle ground between the two. He began to speak, and the words came from him like a cloud of ash. “You must be Benjamin.” Benjamin shot a glance at his fiancé, who returned it with a look of equal discomfort. Unsure what to say to this man, Ben merely nodded and extended his hand. The man took it and shook for just a moment before pulling back and clasping his own hands together, like a priest. “Jacob Berger. I’m the one who wrote you. Your mother spoke very highly of you. Come, make yourselves at home,” the man said. He turned and re-entered the house, leaving the door wide open for his guests. Benjamin moved to follow him, but Sharon gripped his forearm, pulling him closer. “Ben, he freaks me out. Are you sure she lived here?” She asked, staring nervously at the house. “Look, I’ll just go in and find out what they’re doing with my mother. You can wait in the car if you want.” Sharon did not reply, still clutching his arm tightly. “I’ll be fine,” he emphasized. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before she released him. He kissed her cheek, then made his way into the house undeterred. For a moment, she did not move from where she stood, until stray thoughts frightened her and she quickly made her way back to the car. Inside, Mr. Berger sat on a rocking chair, his tired eyes resting on the sight of the bookcase against the far wall. Ben felt hesitant to bother him, so he shuffled where he stood until the older man rose, groaning as though it were a great effort. “Will your fiancé not be joining us, Mr. Lambert?” Mr. Berger asked. “No, she’s always been nervous around bodies, so I told her to wait outside.” For a moment, it appeared as though Jacob Berger had smiled, but looking back, Ben was sure he had just been readying to speak. “I imagine you want to see her, then. She’s upstairs, in her bed.” The two made their way up the thin staircase. Benjamin felt that sense of dread fill his lungs once more, and each step seemed to make that weight heavier. It culminated until they reached the thin door at the end of the stairs, when it suffocated him. He struggled within himself, unable to turn the handle or walk away. Mr. Berger, sensing his hesitation, made his decision for him, and opened the door. Across the room, lying on a small mattress covered with a colorful quilt was the woman that was once Benjamin’s mother. She had aged considerably since the day he left home. Her hair was grey, and the wrinkles of her face had seemed to find the perfect way to rest upon her face. He approached her bed, noting how much her final rest looked like sleep. Her eyes were closed, and a small smile seemed to have formed on her lips, as though she has having a beautiful dream. He grabbed her hand in his, and felt the embers of buried love begin to light. Ben bent down and closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of her skin. “Hey, Mom. It’s Ben. I know it’s been a long time, but I thought maybe I could say goodbye to you in person, like a real son should. You deserved more out of me, and I just wish I could go back and fix all the times I thought of visiting you or sharing my life with you and didn’t. It was hard, losing Dad, but that should have made me fight harder to keep you. I’m so sorry it took me this long to figure it all out. I love you, Mom.” “I love you too, Ben.” When Benjamin’s eyes flew open and he saw his dead mother smiling at him, he screamed. “Calm yourself, young man!” Mr. Berger exclaimed, holding Benjamin up from falling backwards. “C-calm?!” Ben stuttered, too flustered to say anything else. “Benjamin Wallace Lambert, stop your whining. I was just asleep,” Ben’s mother said, lifting herself from the bed. “But the letter said you had died. You’re a lot of things, Mom, but you’re not dead,” Ben said, slowly regaining his own footing. “I did die. In a way, I am dead. Jacob, please explain to my boy the circumstances, if you would. I need to go to the bathroom.” “Let me walk you down first,” Mr. Berger said, opening the door and walking her down the stairs. Ben walked over to the window and saw Sharon staring at the house, terrified from the yell he had let loose a moment before. He waved to her, and he saw her face change from fear to relief, slowly consumed by utter confusion. “Mr. Lambert, I will be frank in telling you that while your mother is not dead in the traditional sense, I was not lying when I composed and sent you that letter. She died of a heart attack three days ago.” Benjamin turned to him, feeling frustrated. “Alright, explain how she’s going to the bathroom and calling me by my full name, then, because that seems like the complete opposite of dead to me.” “This is a truly marvelous town, Mr. Lambert. It has had the remarkable luck of having a friendly, united community, with just enough distance from the modern world to keep its greatest secret safe. One hundred years ago, Pleasant Hills had a great sheriff. He was a kind man to the townspeople, a truly selfless leader with a soft spot for card games. It just so happened one day that the Grim Reaper (yes, the supposedly fictional character), came to this quiet town, calling for the sheriff. Rather than fight him directly or go quietly, the sheriff taunted the reaper, challenging him to a game of cards, in exchange for his life. The reaper accepted, and quickly found himself outmatched by this mortal man. Sure it had been just a fluke; he challenged the sheriff to a rematch. He accepted, but requested a boon, should he win. The reaper was a proud creature, and he all too readily agreed, only to lose a second hand. Furious, the reaper gave him his boon. The sheriff asked that Paradise Hills, for as long as it desired, be in charge of its own reaping.” Benjamin did not believe this man’s tall tale for an instant, but he listened on. “Ever since that day, inside our small fenced town death is the dominion of an elected official, who holds the position until his own death, which is the only one he cannot control. Our reaper does not kill, but merely visits the dead and gives them a chance to settle their affairs when they do pass. In Paradise Hills, death is not a surprise. Death is an organized, loving time where no words go unsaid.” Benjamin thought over this (frankly impossible) story in his head for a moment. He’d lived this long without ever hearing anything so ridiculous, but he wanted desperately to believe. His mother, of all people, would feel home here. Outside, death took his father in the blink of an eye. Here, she could stop the cycle and reconnect with him. “I see in your eyes that you do not believe me. Mr. Lambert, I am this town’s elected Reaper. If you think this is too good to be true, you are sadly mistaken. There are always consequences,” Jacob Berger stated, sounding especially resolute. “No mere mortal can be death. To give these people peaceful deaths, I have surrendered so many things that makes a man human. Taste, smell, joy, sadness, art, music. Many reapers last mere weeks before the nature of the job drives them to suicide, and we do not know where we go when that happens.” As he said these final words, the door to the bedroom opened, and Benjamin’s mother entered the room, staring at her son with complete earnesty. At that moment, he accepted what he heard. “Now that you understand, I will leave you two to talk amongst yourselves. Mrs. Lambert, I can only give you until dawn.” “I understand, Jacob. Thank you so much for everything,” Benjamin’s mother said. Benjamin looked at him and nodded. With no more words, Mr. Berger took his leave, shifting out the room and out of sight. “Son, we have so much to talk about. Tell me everything.” ® A few hours later, Benjamin left the house, wiping tears from his eyes. As he approached the car, Sharon leaned out the window. “Am I going crazy, or did you scream in there?” Benjamin laughed. “I just scared myself going up the steps.” “Oh,” she replied. “So, are we going to stay for the funeral?” “There’s no need. We said our goodbyes,” Benjamin said as he got into the front seat. He started the ignition, looking up at the house one last time. Sharon rubbed the back of his neck, and he smiled at her, hearing his mother’s blessing for their marriage running through his mind. As they drove away from the sleepy town of Paradise Hills, Benjamin Lambert remembered a picnic he shared with his family so many years ago. The sunlight turned the grass into little blades of emerald, and they paled into comparison to the light that shone from their happy faces. But most of all, he thought of Jacob Berger, and his tired, weary eyes. |
